'S 
23 



Hn Epic of tbe Mar of 1861*5 





Class TS ^^\d 
Book^ .Saa. _ 
CopyiightN'' 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 




JOHN STEELE 
Late First Lieut. Co. A, i53d III. Inf. Vols. 



The Schoolmates 



OR 



MARY HOWARD 



AN EPIC OF THE WAR OF J86I-5 



BY 

REV. JOHN STEELE 

Author of "Across the Plains In 1850' 
and "In Camp and Cabin" 



PUBLISHED BY J. STEELE 

LODl, WISCONSIN 



7 ^j :2^1 



q 



THE I.IBftABV OF 
CGNGRE-SS, 

Two CoHltS RtCflvEO 

SEP. 12 1901 

COPVRIOHT ENTH* 

CLASS O^XXC No. 
COPY 0. 



Entered According to Act of Congress, 1901 

BY JOHN STEELE 

In the Office of Librarian of Congre8» AT 

Washington, D. C. 



State Journal Printing Co., Printers 
madison, wisconsin 



To 

His Comrades of the Union Army 

This yolume is Respectfully 

Dedicated 

By the Author 



PREFACE. 



In the early part of 1864, while the author was a duty 
sergeant in the Union Army, and active in camp and 
field, the following epic was written. He is not the hero 
of the story ; but, as usual with fiction, it is founded on 
facts. 

Certain matters illustrating the principles which un- 
derlaid the cause of the war, bringing clearly to view the 
variance between North and South, came to his knowl- 
edge and are found in these pages. 

In the daily routine and uncertainty of a soldier's life, 
the writing, while a relief to the mind and a labor of 
love, was intended to favor President Lincoln's Emanci- 
pation Proclamation, and allay the unjust spirit of caste, 
always, and still too prevalent, in both North and South. 

But his duties as a soldier prevented its publication 
then, and under the pressure of an active life and broken 
health, it has since been laid aside. 

However, the author believes that it still has a mis- 
sion to fulfill, and hence it is revised and given to the 
public. 

It will be of value to the youth of to-day and of com- 
ing years to know the devotion, sacrifice and benefits, 
and, above all, the principles of right maintained by the 
war of 1861-5. In their personnel, the armies which 
wore the blue and gray were equal : the only difference 
lies in the cause for which they fought, therefore, patriot- 
ism and truth demand that the Union soldiers always be 
identified with the cause they served. 

John Steele. 
Lodi, Wis. 



INTRODUCTION. 

A. soldier's life, unlike the day, 
Is measured not by glowing sun; 
For oft, ere morn has passed away. 
Life with its noblest work is done. 
Thus brightest day or darkest night. 
Must find him still with purpose high ; 
Prompt to engage the fiercest fight, 
Or in the forlorn hope to die. 
Thus on the altar life is laid; 
Himself a willing sacrifice ; 
Only on earth perchance repaid 
Should peace o'er death's dark shadows rise. 

Oft have I seen brave comrades die ; 
Some scarred and broken homeward gone ; 
Ranks battle thinned, as years pass by, 
And still the war goes on and on. 
And men still breathe with souls so dead, 
So circumscribed by selfish lust. 
Their better feelings never pled 
For God's own image crushed to dust. 
Whose hardened nature never gave 
Oppression's woes responsive sigh; 
Nor blushed to think a human slave, 
In Freedom's home should pine and die. 
Not those dark minds who never knew. 
Nor cared what liberty might be ; 
But hearts as pure, as good a^nd true, 
As any heart that throbs for thee. 



8 

Yes, there are men with minds so dart — 
Strangely opposing God and right, 
Quenching the truths enkindled spark, 
Lest Tyranny be brought to light. 
Thus they maintain her cursed cause ; 
In the proud name of Justice plead ; 
With bloody hands and cruel laws, 
Strive to defend the darkest deed. 
Slaves to a power which knows no right ; 
Blind, but with willing hearts, they bring 
From Satan's foul domain of night, 
Each poisonous, loathsome, hateful thing. 
All such will scorn the picture here : 
Such souls, such minds, such hearts, such lives, 
Can yield no sympathetic tear, 
Or break from human limbs the gyves. 
Still, as from heaven descend love's beams, 
With power to warm, refine, control: 
Know these are not vain, idle dreams, 
Which seek the portals of thy soul. 

I have my sorrow : it will last 
While my sad life repeats its years; 
But hope's bright halo's round it cast, 
And it is all too pure for tears. 
Yes, in these pages, I will tell 
Why freedom's cause inspires my pride, 
And where, and how, my loved one fell, 
And Liberty became my bride. 



THE SCHOOLMATES 



CHAPTEK I. 

Night gathered round me, dark and chill. 
The slender crescent soon was gone, 
And, as it sunk beneath the hill, 
Dark rolling clouds rushed madly on ; 
The stars went out, the shrieking gale 
Threw brambles in mj picket path. 
As on, with howl and scream and wail. 
Dashed the wild storm in reckless wrath. 

I knew the rebel foe was near. 
At twilight heard his sentry hail ; 
But sought a sheltering rock, and here, 
Standing incased in icy mail, 
Methought I heard a voice again. 
And gave the challenge, clear and high ; 
Then came the rushing tread of men, 
The order, "Yield at once, or. die." 
I tried to give a signal shot. 
My musket missed, and to the ground 
Crushed by a bludgeon ; on the spot 
My hands and feet were quickly bound. 
There in the pelting storm I lay. 
Senseless alike to wounds or cold, 
For well I knew, at dawn of day. 
Our camp the rebel horde would hold. 



10 

Yes, trusting to my watchful skill, 
They to their toil-wrought sleep would cling ; 
Though conscious, 'neath the storm folds chill, 
The foe was crouching to his spring. 
Ejiowing the courage of our band. 
Against what odds they met the strife, 
Alas, I knew that hand to hand. 
Must perish many a hero's life. 
I tried my fetters, strove the while 
To break the bonds which galled my flesh ; 
It only made my foes to smile. 
My frost-chilled wounds to bleed afresh. 

Morn came at last, the storm was o'er, 
But tumult wild, that shook the hill. 
Raged 'round our camp the battle's roar 
In boom and shout, then all grew still. 
And soon, disarmed, with downcast eyes; 
Walled by their foemen's weapons bright, 
I saw my brave companions rise 
The distant hill, and pass from sight. 

My bonds were now unloosed, and I 
Was ordered forward o'er the snow ; 
Vainly my swollen limbs I try. 
To threats and blows they answered, "No.'* 
"Then stay," the foemen said, "and die; 
'Twill only make our burden less, 
Here let your hated carcass lie, 
No eye will weep, no pity bless. 
You came to wrap our homes in flame, 
And crush us with a tyrant's tread, 
You put humanity to shame. 
Each manly impulse long has fled; 



11 

Hell's fiends are lurking in your heart, 
There's lust of plunder in your eye — 
Yes, tear each bleeding wound apart, 
We leave you to repent and — die." 

I knew 'twas useless to reply. 
Each hardened face looked stern and grim ; 
No pity — not a single eye 
But gazed in scorn : my own grew dim, — 
All pain was in an instant gone, — 
My thought that very moment changed ; 
And, as my trembling heart throbbed on. 
Uncurbed and far like fancy ranged. 
Yes, every shadow passed away. 
My vision looked life's mazes through ; 
Time, with its terror and decay, 
Died quickly out, and all was new. 
Earth's brightest gems, bedimmed, would fade 
To dull dark earth within that light ; 
E'en thought took form, without the aid 
Of speech, and seemed as jewels bright. 

I could not comprehend it all. 
So grand the glorious radiance shown; 
My soul, unfettered, felt no thrall, 
"With freedom hitherto unknown. 
Lured by sweet transports, such as fill 
The breasts of Angels 'round the throne. 
Delighted, rose to range at will. 
Where wide the dazzling glories shone ; 
To mingle with the happy throngs. 
To tread those streets of pearl and gold. 
To understand, yea, join those songs, 
Which wide their halleluiahs rolled. 



12 



But dimness darkly 'round me grew, 
And fainter to my yearning sight, 
Each bright form faded from my view, 
And, pall-like, settled into night. 
But still, at times, from out the gloom, 
Came music soft, and sweet, and clear, 
And then, as from the pit of doom 
Released, some pardoned soul could hear 
The accents of an Angel guide; 
So I the holy presence felt, 
And gladly then would have replied. 
But speechless gloom within me dwelt, 
Fettered my tongue, and on my heart 
Lay like a mountain load of grief ; 
And yet, I felt it must depart. 
Some heavenly power would bring relief. 

But how I wondered, to behold. 
Creep bright through crevice, roof, and pane, 
The sunlight, tinging with its gold 
The rude rough logs, where smoky stain 
Alike to walls and ceiling clung; 
"While through the rude, misshapen door. 
Like harpstrings, were the sunbeams strung, 
Resting in bright keys on the floor. 
And in a fireplace, low and wide, 
The dying embers smouldering lay, 
And on rough shelves, close to its side. 
Some kitchen pans were stowed away. 
And my low couch was clean and neat, 
Though spread upon the puncheon floor. 
"How came I to this odd retreat ?" 
Vainly I thought the question o'er. 



13 



A colored man, -with noiseless tread, 
Brought to the fire some sticks of wood, 
Gazed on my face, then shook his head, 
And turned away in solemn mood. 
A tremor thrilled his giant frame, 
Tears trickled down his swarthy cheek ; 
Then, just as silent as he came, 
Was gone, ere I could move or speak. 
My mind recalled the midnight fray, 
And the bleak morn of my despair ; 
Wlien bleeding on the snow I lay, 
Scorned by the fiends who left me there. 
Was it a dream ? I raised my hand 
To find the wound my head received ; 
Pound there the closely fitting band. 
And knew I had not been deceived ; 
Knew by the darting twinge of pain, 
That answered to my gentlest touch, 
And, sparkling, glimmered in my brain, 
That I had suffered long and much. 

While thus I mused in doubtful mood, 
A s'hadow o'er my couch was flung, 
A form of beauty o'er me stood. 
Her voice in pensive sweetness rung; 
While her glad eyes were bent on mine. 
Then raised to heaven in thankful prayer; 
Eyes so pathetic, so divine, 
I felt an Angel's presence there. 
In my surprise her words were lost ; 
But when she stooped with soft caress, 
As o'er my brow her hand was crossed. 
My wrist her fingers gently press ; 



14 



I knew 'twas her desire to know 
If reason had regained its throne, 
And if my heart, in measured flow. 
Throbbed with a health-returning tone. 

I answered her inquiring glance : 
"I'm now quite well, my mind is clear ; 
But can you tell me by what chance, 
What blessed fortune brought me here ?" 

"Nay, rest awhile, I'll tell you all, 
When you have strength to bear the tale ; 
For, by your pulse's sudden fall, 
And your thin cheek so cold and pale, 
I know you need refreshment now. 
There rest, some slight repast I'll bring ; 
Although my store will but allow 
Some bread^ with water from the spring ; 
But I'm so happy, thus to see 
That answering look, instead the stare, 
Which once so wildly turned to me, 
And almost made my heart despair. 
Thank God ! who answered my request. 
And gave me hope 'mid all my fears" — 
She paused, her heart throbbed in her breast, 
Turning aside to hide her tears. 
She heaped the smouldering fire anew, 
And soon prepared the simple food ; 
Raised up my shoulders ; round them threw 
Her mantle, and, in cheerful mood. 
Sat by my side and talked and smiled, 
And answered questions o'er and o'er; 
So blissful was the hour beguiled 
It seemed the world could add no more. 



15 



She fixed tlie bandage, bathed my head, 
With touch which tenderness expressed; 
"I must not wear J you," she said, 
"Dismiss all anxious care and rest." 

Rest, with an Angel watching near. 
Came sweet as mother's lullaby ; 
And waking, strong in hope and cheer, 
Again my sable friend was nigh. 
"O bress de Lawd," he said, "I see 
You's done got back to know yousef ; 
We'se watched you, Markses gal an' me, 
A wrastlin' day an' night with def. 
I clar gin out, she kep right on, 
An' prayed an' would'nt let you go ; 
'Pears like de Lawd, when you'd done gone, 
Jes brot you back, she pleaded so." 

"You see, when Massa Marks was dead, 
An' no one cared for Zeb, dat's me ; 
With hava'sack of meat an bread 
I skipped, sayin' 'Why kaint I be free V 
After de fight I comes up here. 
Looked in, but didn't dare to stay; 
Hid in de ruff, kase I jes fear 
De rebels weren't all away. 
Den I seed Mary, — she, for fac. 
Tote fire in by dis cabin door, 
So I comes down along de track. 
An' say, Ize here to help ye, shore. 
Jes how she f oun' you I don' know ; 
A dyin' like, all slimp and chill. 
Among de dead down in de snow; 
But den we fotch yo' up de hill. 



16 

An' warmed yo' up, an' guve yo' drink, 
Rolled yo' in linsey, warm an' dry, — 
I don' know how ye lived, but tink 
De Lawd don' mean to let yo' die." 

Though helpless as an infant, still, 
No torturing tremors shook my frame ; 
Days passed as merry as the rill. 
While health's returning vigor came. 
But how my heart then longed and pled, 
To know these lives — pure, pious, mild; 
Zeb was the slave of Marks, now dead ; 
But Mary — ^was she slave, or child ? 
My mind, which like my body weak, 
Had gathered strength from day to day; 
Till more and more I longed to speak. 
And ask why thus from friends away, 
She lingered by the side of one, 
A stranger, and she might not tell, 
But she would only loathe or shun 
Him she had nursed so long and well. 
If all his faults were plainly told, 
For she had never seemed to doubt, 
Nor sought one mystery to unfold, 
Nor yet one fact to single out. 
But while the thought dwelt in my mind, 
Curbed by my efforts to conceal; 
I dared not tell to one so kind, 
A tale which would my heart reveal. 

Within her dark expressive eye, 
A bright angelic radiance shone; 
And a warm heart's rich melody 
Was sweetly breathed in every tone. 



17 



In contrast with her raven hair, 
Which loose in wavy ringlets hung, 
Her fair complexion seemed too fair, 
And paleness o'er her features flung. 
The sylph-like beauty of her form 
Was hightened by a native grace. 
Gesture or movement gave a charm 
As captivating as her face. 
I sometimes thought an angel bright, 
Pure from the portals of the sky. 
Had come with mercy, love and light, 
And pityingly still lingered nigh. 

O, there are natures pure and free. 
And minds which shut suspicion out. 
Whose wealth is kindness, — charity. 
Whose faith, majestic, cannot doubt. 
Such was the angel, who through days 
And nights of pain had vigils kept ; 
While life, with dull and flickering blaze, 
Beneath death's awful shadow slept. 
Nay, this kind act might also bring 
On her the vengeance of my foe, 
Which, crouching, tiger-like, to spring, 
Camped in the valley just below. 

Our rough log cabin on the hight, 
O'erlooked the valley and the road, 
Where rebel standards came in sight. 
And passing hosts like rivers flowed. 
When through the leafless trees I gazed. 
And saw the moving thousands pass. 
Like billows by the tempest raised. 
In glitt'ring sheen, or solid mass ; 
2 



18 



And onward, northward, northward still, 
Line after line in long array, 
Squadrons and heavy batt'ries fill 
The narrow vale day after day — 
Musing I asked in wondering mood, 
"What army's this ; in whose command ? 
Where hound this martial multitude? 
The scourge of our unhappy land." 

"I know them well," replied my friend, 
"I saw those banners weeks ago. 
Where the Arkansas slopes descend, 
They gathered from the vales below. 
I was their cajDtive once, and know 
How cruel human hearts can be ; 
And yet 1 found a generous foe. 
Whose manly courage set me free." 

She mused awhile with troubled look, 
Hepressed a sigh, and spoke again ; 
^'My friend, within this lonely nook 
I feel we may not long remain. 
Yes, we must leave this calm retreat. 
Must part perhaps to meet no more, 
Until our weary pilgrim feet 
rind rest where all earth's storms are o'er. 
Nay, look not sad, when I have told 
My history and low estate ; 
How but a chattel, bought and sold, 
I felt the awful, crushing weight. 
Of that dark curse, the blackest crime 
Which lurks within the law's control ; 
The same in every age and clime, 
Slav'ry which blights the nation's soul. 



19 



Slight the regret which you may feel, 
To part with one, so low, so weak ; 
But mem'ry may sometimes appeal, 
And bring again the thoughts I speak ; 
May wake them yet to nerve your arm 
When 'round you rings the battle's fray ; 
Or linger in your heart, a charm. 
To charm your soul from earth away. 

"Should darkest fate demand your fall, 
Death strive from life to shut the light ; 
'Twould be relief then to recall. 
That you were dying for the right. 
I know that many a loving friend 
Laments your absence even now, 
Sadness a sister's walks attend. 
And care-lines mark a parent's brow. 
But courage ! let your heart be strong, 
Trust God, and wait for brighter days ; 
Right yet shall triumph over wrong. 
And love award her meed of praise. 
In life or death, storm or repose, 
Methinks our God is just above ; 
And we to him, 'mid many foes. 
May yield ourselves and all we love, 

"I love to have God intervene, 
In faith lean on His mighty power ; 
It calms my soul, and the wide scene. 
Where lightnings flash and tempests lour, 
Is brightened by the thought that all 
Is governed by the Wise and Good, 
Who notes even a sparrow's fall. 
And yet His love and laws have stood 



20 



Through countless ages, and where'er 

His creatures' wants in prayer were wailed, 

Our God in love was always near, 

Nor has His promise ever failed. 

We read it on the path of crime, 

'Tis written over all our land, 

And all the bloody rolls of time 

Keveal the truth, God's word shall stand." 



CHAPTEE 11. 

I well remember when a child, 
My dying mother's last caress. 
"Father," she said, in accents mild, 
"Hear Thou my orphan's prayers and bless"- 
She spoke no more, the icy chill. 
Slow creeping quenched the light of love 
Trom out her tender eyes, but still 
I felt that God was just above. 
And those last words were in my ears, 
The last my mother ere could speak ; 
So kneeling, sobbed amid my tears, 
"Father in heaven, Thy care I seek.'* 

I know not why I wept, for then 
I watched and prayed for death's depart ; 
And I was sure that soon again. 
Warm life would course within her heart ; 
And those dull, glassy eyes would fill 
With love and light through God's own power ; 
And thus I watched and waited, till 
The crimson clouds told sunset's hour. 

At last when shadows filled the room, 
And day began its slow retreat, 
And all was silent as the tomb, 
Save my low sobs and heart's wild beat; 
My prayer was answered, and a friend. 
My mother's dear, dear friend, and mine, 
Passed where the twilight shadows blend. 
And paused in sympathy divine. 



22 



I felt warm kisses on my brow, 
And saw the tears of sorrows fall; 
"O child," she said, "your mother now 
Is free from pain, and care, and all 
The bitter agony of death — 
And she a thorny path has trod — 
Nay, do not weep, — at your last breath 
Tou'll meet her in the courts of God." 

"Come, Mary, you will live with me, 
And I will love you as my own ; 
And for my Ella, you will be 
A pleasant playmate ; she has shown 
How much she loves you, and how kind 
She always is to you, — so come; 
In your great sorrow you will find 
True sympathy, kind friends, and home." 

Perhaps no scene that ever stirred 
My heart, or pictured in my brain. 
Made deeper impress, every word. 
And thought, and look, infixed remain. 
My mother's features, calm, serene, / 
As though she soundly, sweetly slept, — 
'Twas always so, that one sad scene, 
My faithful mem'ry ever kept. 
No wonder, for I never knew. 
Till then, the mystery of death ; 
And then, a sudden pang passed through 
My heart, and strangely took my breath. 
That faith which brought my hopes so near. 
In future shadows sunk away. 
Where distance, dim, and dark, and drear, 
Scarce left for earth one glimmering ray. 



23 



How far, how very far it seemed, 
That long, long lapse of time would be, 
Till all the light of love which beamed, 
In mother's soul would wake for me. 

Ah then, the world had not a tie ; 
Life seemed a listless, irksome, task ; 
I longed for time to hurry by ; 
Of earth I'd nothing more to ask. 
I could not throw the spell away, 
The secret wish my soul had cheered, 
Clung to my hearty however gay. 
Or glad, or thoughtlessi appeared. 
Yes, bright hopes beckoned on my way, 
And friends in my affection grew ; 
Tears passed, and yet the world's lost sway. 
Could not its shattered joys renew. 

Was it the power of childish thought? 
Intensely struggling in the brain. 
As one might think, and overwrought 
Imagination's glowing train ? 
Or was it life's prefigured field ? 
Which God thus raised my mind to see, 
Telling, of all the world could yield. 
How few the joys 'twould bring^ to me. 
'Twas well ; for disappointment's power, 
Anticipated ere it came. 
Held not my soul a single hour, 
Nor seared my feelings with its flame. 
My friend, 'tis well to trample earth. 
And all its selfish seeming low, 
For bliss which has no higher birth. 
Immortal minds may well forego. 



24 



Happy young Ella Howard's heart 
Had not a selfish wish or tone, 
Equal with her in childish art, 
I shared her treasures as my own. 
And, pleasantly, beside the rill, 
We built our playhouse, wreathed the flowers, 
Explored the caves along the hill, 
Found all the woodland paths and bowers ; 
Found in the meadow, cliff or tree, 
The soft and tiny wild bird's nest, 
And, in their early morning glee. 
Could tell whose song we loved the best. 
Often we watched the little ant, 
Toiling to make an even road ; 
And wondered, as o'er rocky slant. 
We watched them drag their cumbrous load. 
Often beside the mossgrown bank. 
We found the spider's silken cells ; 
And often where from rill we drank. 
We drew some pebbles bright or shells. 
And placed them wreath-like 'round our flowers, 
To border garden walks, or strew 
The paths within our sylvan bowers. 
Where summer's sunshine struggled through. 

And books, though oft' neglected toil, 
At times engaged a wayward thought; 
Till interest would our tasks beguile, 
And thus a recompense was brought. 
Together many a page we turned, 
And learned the tales of human woe ; 
And while our hearts with feeling burned, 
Thanked God we lived not long ago, 



25 



When wicked power o'ercame the right, 
And wrong held triumph fierce and sure; 
And oft, in chains or dungeon's night, 
Were bound the innocent and pure. 
Yes, we were thankful that our birth 
Assigned us to a Christian age ; 
A land where freedom's full felt worth 
Illumined all our history's page. 
Strangely, we did not see the wrong, 
The awful bondage and the blight. 
By force of Church and State made strong, 
O'er all save those whom caste called white. 

Little we thought that days like these ; 
Fruit of oppression, hate and crime, 
Would startle the reluctant breeze. 
And break the quiet of our time. 
Little we knew how well concealed, 
By moral robe and law's control. 
All its fiend nature, unrevealed. 
Still slept within the human soul. 
Who hence, can ere believe the tale 
Of human virtue smoothly told ; 
Since, causeless, over hill and dale. 
Crime has its bloody surges rolled ? 
Can hearts now boast a kindred tie? 
Or man claim brotherhood with man? 
And know there's truth in his reply. 
Which years and circumstance may scan ? 

But then, our Carolina home 
Had hushed the shriek of wild despair ; 
Nor from the hardy North had come. 
In answer to the bondman's prayer, 



26 



The army's splendid pomp and power. 
For, southern planters satisfied 
With the bright flag their fathers bore, 
Looked on its brilliant stars with pride; 
And told when battle's thunder 'woke 
The patriot spirits, true and bold. 
Where then, amid the shadowy smoke, 
Their fathers first that flag unrolled. 
How, one by one, those stars had risen, 
And shown on every land and sea. 
While whites from tyrant's power and prison 
Found here asylum safe and free. 

What wonder we were charmed, and loved 
Our native land, and deemed it right; 
When prejudice of caste had proved, 
All must be subject to the white. 
'Twas thus, neglected, wild and free, 
Our biased minds, yet unrestrained. 
Were not by fashion's revelry, 
Nor superstition's darkness chained. 

But childhood's pleasant days passed by; 
And Ella's parents, always kind. 
Would not one generous help deny, 
Which might improve the heart or mind. 
So to a northern school we went, 
'Mid Massachusetts' storm swept hills ; 
And there our minds on tasks were bent. 
Which seemed as endless as the rills. 
But there arithmetic we learned. 
Explored mysterious algebra. 
Through arbitrary grammar turned, 
Till ancient speech blent with our day. 



27 



Also Geography's wide field 

Was traced, till, in their various guise, 

rorm, law, and language were revealed, 

Of all the nations 'neath the skies. 

Those terms men call philosophy, 

Continued story, ancient, vast. 

Committed we to memory. 

And through the range of science passed ; 

All vegetative forms unrolled. 

And to earth's flaming center deep, 

We learned each rock, its age, and mould, 

Had marked each planet's circling sweep, 

Afar, where distance dazzles sight, 

Each star a sun majestic rolled. 

To break from other worlds the night. 

And tinge their skies with red and gold. 

I loved to read from nature's page, 
And find in all my walks abroad, 
Some vestige of progressing age, 
Which told the economy of God. 
Beauty in the bright wild flowers. 
Purity in the stainless dew. 
Trust, where the vine high climbing towers. 
And hope, where buds come bursting through. 
Faith, where the eagle leans his wing 
Securely 'gainst the yielding air; 
Majestic thoughts the mountains bring, 
Eternity seems written there. 

But Ella's spirit chafed beneath 
The abstract reasoning of schools; 
Hers was a soul which sought the wreathi 
Of song, not philosophic rules. 



28 



Nature she loved as beauty's form, 

A form mysterious, grand and bright, 

Yet more, far more, its voice could charm,— 

Entrancing music's rapt delight. 

Her life seemed like a happy dream; 

Angelic, loving, pure, divine; 

Her thoughts flashed, like the meteor's gleam, 

In contrast painfully with mine. 

For I had not her social grace, — 
Had learned a rule by which to talk, 
A rule to give each thought its place; 
Yes, rules to sit, to step, to walk ; 
Pedantic rules to build the song. 
And sweep impassioned thoughts away. 
Rules to make conscience pure and strong. 
And rules by which to meekly pray. 

Still was the woodland path as dear. 
The laughing rill had tones as sweet. 
As lured my early childhood's ear. 
And tempted first my wayward feet. 
And oft in cliff o'erhanging dell. 
Some calm, secluded solitude, 
Would break the cold and rigid spell. 
And give me back my childish mood. 
'Twas here my long loved songs I sung. 
Reviewed the dreams that could not fade. 
Here too, with fervent soul and tongue, 
My early simple prayers I prayed. 



29 



But Ella scarce found time to stray- 
As erst, through meadow, glen and wood ; 
Earnest in study, day by day — 
Active and gay in doing good. 
Hers was a form of fairest mold, 
Movement and speech showed equal grace ; 
While flaxen curls, slightly unroUedj 
Clustered around a child-like face. 
Her azure, laughing eyes, so bright. 
Heart-moved, would flash, or melt in tears; 
Her guileless soul, from hope's glad light, 
Brought joy, but scattered doubts and fears. 

And then, her voice, so soft, so sweet, 
Such melody, such depth and force — 
The dying echo's last repeat, 
Or love, or anger, or remorse ; 
Each modulation marked so well, 
Your very soul the passion felt ; 
And, as she touched the keys, there fell 
Such tones as all the feelings melt. 
And yet no heart was more sincere. 
No soul more pure, no mind more high, 
No brighter hopes ere clustered here, 
Or, disappointed, drooped to die: — 
Than hers ; for guile, or doubts, or fears, 
Undreaded, darkened not her dreams ; 
No, all the glorious light which cheers 
The path of human life, — its beams 
Spread out upon her dazzling way, 
The true, the beautiful, the wise, 
Her loved companions day by day. 
And she, the central, cherished prize. 



30 



Yet there was one we all held dear, 
Another idol in each throng; 
Because his bold bright mind was clear, 
And, fearless, righted every wrong. 
And envy never cowed before 
A nobler or more honest foe; 
And e'en his rivals counted o'er 
The gen'rous deeds, they best could know. 
Calm in the conscious power of right. 
No fierce wild passion shook his frame, 
He, holding truth's own champion might, 
Turned, strangely, from the charms of fame. 
I might give many reasons why 
I speak thus highly in his praise ; 
But you, my friend, far more than I, 
Can judge his motives, — those displays 
Of gen'rous sympathy, which won 
The hearts of those who knew him best; 
For you were friends, in youth begun 
The friendship, which still warms your breast, 

"I know by this," she said, and gave 
Into my hand a erumbled note. 
''Doubtless you will desire to save 
A letter Willard Preston wrote. 
I found it blood-stained on the snow, 
Where you were bound that fatal night, 
When through the storm the wily foe, 
Surprised you on the rocky hight. 
One question there demands reply, 
And I can give the answer true ; 
A trusty mission failed, but I 
Will tell the story all to you. 



31 



'Tis asked, "Does Ella Howard's heart 
Cling fondly to her youthful love ? 
If when the storms of war depart, 
And peaceful sunshine breaks above 
Our common country's blood-stained fields, 
Faithful, her heart will still beat high. 
For one, who now his weapon wields 
Beneath our flag to live or die ? 
Or has she caught the southern fire, 
Forgetful of our glorious past, 
With those who would, in reckless ire, 
Our nation's every prospect blast." 

I wish that Willard Preston knew, 
How faithful Ella's heart has been 
To him, and to her country, true, 
'Mid all the sorrow she has seen ; 
And how, with all her earnest soul, 
She dared confront fell treason's tide. 
While death's dread shadows near her roll, 
And vengeance scowled on every side. 
Could he but know how true, how brave, 
How patriotic, and sincere. 
Her spirit, which not guard nor glave. 
Could tame or overcome with fear. 
I said, I'd tell it all to you — 
The story of her wrongs, her truth ; 
And trust again in friendship true. 
You'll tell it to the noble youth, 
Should God's protecting goodness guide 
Your footsteps safely from this glen ; 
'Twill fill his fervent heart with pride, 
And hope will nerve his arm again. 



CHAPTEE III. 

Five years had slowlj passed away, 
Since first our school-girl days began; 
And tasks we toiled o'er day by day, 
Passed like each visionary plan; 
Which gladdens every heart's young flow, 
Then hides in shadows dark and deep ; 
Little, alas ! the mind may know 
The mystery coming years may keep. 
When schools have all their lore explained, 
And the proud mind receives its store; 
How oft it only may have gained 
Some gloomy prejudice of yore. 
How many led, by false lights, on 
A dazzling future's bright array, 
Till cherished hopes, and lights are gone, 
And all life's treasures swept away. 

What strange wild prejudice possessed 
Those minds which first proviked this strife ! 
A demon's heart in human breast. 
Seemed thirsting for our Nation's life. 
And yet, perhaps, 'twas only mind. 
Vainly believing falsehood truth; 
Nor pausing in its course to find. 
And cancel errors learned in youth. 
When the wild war-note first was heard, 
How many laughed the scheme to scorn ; 
How very few the hearts it stirred — 
How few rose up to soothe and warn. 



33 



E'en when the war-clouds draped the sky, 
And hung in gloom o'er half the land ; 
Few then believed destruction nigh, 
Or e'en a bloody feud at hand. 

Letters from home were hopeful, till 
Fort Sumter's flag was swept away, 
And through the land there rolled a thrill, 
Which ushered in war's dread array. 
Then Mr. Howard sent request 
For our return without delay ; 
'Mid threatening danger he thought best 
To reach the home-nest while we may. 

Partings are always painful, sad, 
And yet, some solace still is given ; 
Youth, in its future hope is glad. 
And age, at parting looks to heaven. 
Thus, when our school companions came. 
With solemn look and stifled sigh, 
Hope whispering "Love abides the same,'* 
Softened each pensive, sweet, "Good Bye." 

Strange how those early mem'ries cling. 
Embracing every word and thought. 
In "Homeward bound !" what joy ; there spring 
Delights which nowhere else are sought. 
How conscious of a safe retreat 
Within the portals pure of home ; 
Where every human joy can meet. 
And prayers ascend for those who roam. 
3 



34 



Where pure affection dwells secure, 
And love, which cannot change or die, 
Unscathed by passion will endure 
When wealth and fame in ruins lie. 

"Homeward bound !" loved Ella felt 
The inward joy such thoughts will bring ; 
]3ut I, a shadow round me dwelt, 
And doubt to all my bopes would cling. 
Now first I felt that faith decline. 
Which had, in childhood, dried my tears ; 
That distant home might not be mine, 
As in my early childhood years. 
Perhaps 'twas pride rose in my heart; 
I'm sure my love was still the same, 
'Twere anguish from those friends to part, 
And yet, I feared a pauper's name. 

I knew 'twas kindness, — charity, 
Wbich all unchanged for many years. 
Spread even luxury gen'rously. 
Left in my heart no place for fears ; 
But now, since childhood passed away, 
A change came o'er my spirit's tone; 
My love of home knew no decay. 
But O, I felt 'twas not my own. 
Yes, sad, though lovingly, I turned 
Back to my distant native hills, 
While pensively, once more I yearned 
To catch the murmur of their rills. 
To feel the soft pure atmosphere. 
Breathed from those smiling summer skies; 
And hail again those fountains clear, 
Which flow where shadowy mountains rise. 



35 



The vale was just as calm and still ; 
Our cottage home, partly concealed 
By trees, which spring now strove to fill 
With leaves, while vines, scarcely revealed, 
Were springing by the walks around. 
And all was bright and pleasant there, 
As when we left our playing ground, 
For years of studious toil and care. 
And Ella's parents seemed the same, 
Their hair perhaps a lighter shade. 
But then, our loving welcome came 
From hearts where time no changes made. 
The years no cold reserve had left. 
Our spirits just as light and free. 
And all our hearts, of care bereft. 
Were happy now as hearts could be. 

That night when I had sought my room, 
In sleep the busy day to close, 
A strange, mysterious weight of gloom 
And horror, mingled my repose. 
That day, the first my eyes e'er gazed 
Upon that flag, which rebel bands 
Had o'er our Nation's banner raised. 
And now upheld with bloody hands. 
I scorned it with a proud disdain ; 
And yet I felt an inward thrill, 
A fear, I could not well refrain — 
A painful shudder and a chill. 
In dreams I saw the ruddy flame. 
Which lit some city's roofs and domes ; 
Deeply the boom of cannon came. 
And shrieks rang out from ruined homes. 



36 



At dawn my lurid dreams were o*er, 
The phantoms gone, and feelings quelled,— 
All horrors of that midnight hour 
By happy greetings were dispelled. 
That morn spread o'er the smiling hills, 
The radiant glow of early spring, 
Just such delight as often fills 
The soul, while nature seems to sing. 
My window overlooked the gre«n. 
Where stood my mother's ruined cot ; 
While far upon a mound was seen, 
And drooping willows marked the spot, 
Where, fourteen years before, they laid 
My mother in her silent grave ; — 
There childhood's earnest prayers were prayed, 
And my young heart to God I gave. 

Backward across the sea of time. 
My thoughts turned fondly to the pastj 
But my heart trembled to the chime, 
Which mystery o'er my being cast. 
My mother's name was never told, 
Onl7 'twas Mary, — that was mine — 
And none to me would ere unfold. 
Of her past life, a word or line. 
As Mary Howard I was known, 
And here a deep, dread mystery lay, — 
Would Mr. Howard kindred own ? 
I dared not sweep the doubt away. 
Perhaps 'twas but a kind regard, 
A sympathy, to soothe, infold, 
And make my orphan lot less hard. 
That mother's life had not been told. 



37 



Perhaps — a darker thought arose— 
And, shudderinglj, as oft before, 
My mind sunk into blank repose, 
Fearing to follow fancy more. 

At last a firm resolve was made 
To break the spell which bound my life ; 
For why should mystic light and shade 
Hold in my heart unceasing strife ? 
When Mr. Howard, kind and true, 
Knew all my mother's life, and mine ; 
Perhaps he'd tell me all he knew ; 
If sorrowful, it might refine 
My soul in humble gratitude ; 
Cause me to hold the hand which gave 
Slielter from storms so wild and rude. 
They swept my mother to the grave. 
With throbbing heart I crossed the hall, 
And paused beside the open door. 
My courage failed, resolve and all, 
Slowly I turned and paced the floor. 

Kind Ella met me at the door. 
And, smiling, said, "I've waited long; 
Come now, I've tried to sing it o'er. 
But you must help me sing this song. 
'Twas Willard Preston gave it me, 
He wrote the song and music too. 
And placed it in my hand, when we, 
To our dear schoolmates, bade adieu. 
And now in confidence sincere, 
Mary, I'll whisper it to you. 
Will told me he was coming here. 
And he will keep his promise true. 



38 

"Ah yes," he said, "a cruel war 
Might separate us wide and long." 
Alas, I fear this horrid jar 
Will fill our land with blood and wrong. 
And then my Will may never come; 
Yes, he may in the conflict die. 
O, how I hate that rattling drum. 
Which passes and repasses by. 

Come to the parlor, let us sing 
A song for just such times as these; 
And Mary, our old flag I'll bring, 
And spread it to the morning breeze. 
See yonder, where they mock the sky, 
And march with gleaming bayonet. 
Shorn of the stripes, their banners fly. 
And half our glorious stars are set." 
Away she ran and soon displayed. 
Our Nation's standard floating high 
In aU its stars and stripes arrayed. 
Like some bright meteor in the sky. 
Then, with piano and guitar 
Our voices to the music rung. 
And, while the echoes died afar, 
Brave WiUard Preston's song we sung. 



THE SONG. 

TO OtTE EKOTHEKS OF THE SOTJTH. 

Oh Brothers, raise that flag once more, 
Let all its stars shine out on high, 

Beneath its folds in days of yore, 
Our honored fathers dared to die. 

They loved it as the emblem bright, 
Of all that toil, and blood, and tears. 

Had gathered from oppression's might, 
And garnered up for future years. 

Beneath its pure and gorgeous fold, 
Was framed the Charter of the free — 

The Constitution — ours to hold, 
Enjoy, and give posterity. 

iWherever vessel plows the waves. 

Our struggling Freedom breaths a prayer, 
Yes, even in our father's graves. 

We know the dear old flag is there. 

Then Brothers, raise that flag once more, 
Let all its stars shine out on high. 

Dim not the stripes our fathers bore. 
Nor sweep their honor from the sky. 



40 



Scarce ceased, our song, when loud without, 
Was heard the din of angry men, 
"Tear down that flag," arose a shout, 
"Here never shall it wave again." 
Ella arose, her cheeks grew pale, 
A strange light sparkled in her eyes. 
She said, "No traitor shall assail 
That flag, nor seize it as a prize." 
But heavy footsteps in the hall. 
And bay'nets glancing by the door, 
Cast a dread silence over all 
Our household, in a moment more. 
Then Mr. Howard's voice was heard 
Calmly above the tumult rude, 
"Hold ! hold ! speak not an angry word, 
But, tell me why you thus intrude ?" 

The leader waved his sword, to still 
The boisterous clamor of the crowd ; 
When every musket, at his will. 
Clanged to the floor, like thunder loud. 
All was attention when he spoke : 
"My friend, a flag insults our skies, 
And tho' you know the bond is broke— 
The Union, and its kindred ties — 
Yet from your window, you have dared 
Unfold that standard to the breeze ; 
I^ow then, no tory life is spared, 
!For vengeance strikes in times like these. 
I've known you as a weak, frail man, 
Who feared to join the noble strife, 
But tho' / may not reach your plan. 
Here's bay'nets that can reach your life. 



41 



For South Carolina will not own 
Son so degenerate as you ; 
She who rose fearless and alone, 
To all her ancient honor true, 
Will strike the recreant to the dust, 
And send his home in clouds on high', 
And justify the sacred trust 
For which her heroes dare to die.** 

0*er Mr. Howard^s manly face. 
The changing hues of feeling stole. 
While native eloquence and grace, 
Breathed forth the burden of his soul. 
"I'm weak, those bay'nets tell me so, 
I've felt it deeply, felt it long ; 
But broken now the spell, and know. 
In God's own strength my soul is strong. 
Your work, a causeless, wicked thing. 
Sprung from ambition's mad desire, 
Can only crime and sorrow bring, 
And then go out in blood and fire. 
You boast the honor of our state. 
And yet you blindly cast aside. 
The honored hand which made her great, 
And foully stain her ancient pride. 
That emblem which my daughter's hand, 
Hung from the window of her room. 
Floated above the noble band 
Who saved us from oppression's gloom. 
The government they framed was just, 
Yielding to each his every right. 
Had all been faithful to their trust, 
Our state had feared not war's dread blight ; 



42 



Nor I be thus condemned to die, 
My home in ruin to be laid, 
My family be doomed to fly, 
Of every human fiend afraid. 
But know, however dread the doom, 
How fierce the vengeance you may claim, 
How dark or bloody be my tomb, 
I leave, at least, unsullied name. 
Yes, honor, such as manhood claims, 
Demands the truth whate'er the cost; 
Know then, my ardent hopes and aims. 
Rise Avith that flag, are with it lost. 
Yet, for the sake of these, whose fate, 
God's providence has bound to mine, 
Let vengeance for the present wait, — 
Mercy, you know, is all divine." 

The captain made some rude reply. 
Then sternly shouted, "Bring that flag ! 
Here nevermore its folds shall fly, 
Old Lincoln's blood polluted rag." 

The pallor fled from Ella's face, 
A fever flush her features wore. 
She sought her room with hurried pace, 
And hence the starry standard bore. 
Swift through the martial host she sprung, 
The loOse-furled banner in her hand, 
A ruffian voice behind her rung — 
Bayonets were poised, the rebel band 
Closed round her as she crossed the hall, 
Quick flashed a sword above her head, 
I heard her shriek, beheld her fall. 
And shuddered, for I thought her dead. 



43 



Then came a rush around the door, 
When instantly a death-shot rang, 
A groan of pain the answer bore ; 
And lion-hearted Howard sprang, 
Beside his daughter where she lay, 
And fierce, with superhuman might, 
As reeds their bayonets swept away. 
And bore her quickly from the fight. 



CHAPTER IV. 

The flag, still firm in Ella's grasp, 
Was with her to the parlor borne : 
Whemconscious safety loosed her clasp, 
I saw 'twas stained with blood, and torn. 
'Twas her own blood, which trickling fast. 
In bright lines down her bosom rolled. 
While on her shoulder, wide and ghast, 
A sword cut coward vengeance told. 
But quickly springing to her feet, 
^Tather," she cried, ''dear father, fly I 
Afar, seek some secure retreat. 
Oh, hasten ! hasten ! or you die I" 

Eirmly with weapon poised, he stood 
Close by the door against the wall. 
"No, no," he said, "not if I could. 
In God's name here I stand or fall. 
Nay, let them come, I fear not those 
Who, cowardly, on women war ; 
They seem so base — such reptile foes, 
Erom manliness removed so far." 

Now Mrs. Howard, death-like, pale. 
And trembling, to her husband ran. 
But her entreaties also fail, 
To move that brave, determined man. 
Then through the open door she passed, 
To crave the bloody fray might end. 
And plead that mercy might at last, 
Eind in each foeman's heart a friend. 



45 



Meanwhile, with trembling care, I bound, 
And wiped the crimson stains away, 
And gently closed the cruel wound, 
Then knelt by Ella's side to pray. 
When heavy footsteps measured tread, 
Echoed along the sounding hall, 
I knew the foe — and bowed my head. 
How could I see my guardian fall ! 

But Mrs. Howard's voice was heard 
In low, convulsive, shudd'ring tone, — 
Said Howard, "Can their hearts be stirred 1 
And comes he here unarmed ? alone ?" 
"Yes, I'm alone, and claim a heart, 
Which throbs in sympathy sincere ; 
Trust me, I bear a manly part — 
I bring no hate or malice here.'* 
I liked that voice, and raised my eyes ; 
The speaker's face was pale and young, 
A countenance where myst'ry lies, 
O'er which a shade of sadness hung. 
His tall form clad in martial dress. 
Bespoke the soldier's bearing high, 
While all of woman's tenderness. 
Beamed from his dark and lustrous eye. 
Tho' in Confederate livery clad, 
His mildness gave me hope anew, 
His very presence made me glad, 
Eor he had been our playmate true. 
Erank Cleveland, — ^we had known him long- 
Our wealthy neighbor's only son. 
Who, joining with the martial throng, 
Enlisted ere the war begun. 



46 



He gave us sucli a pitying glance, 
Then grasping Mr. Howard's hand, 
"Alas," he said, "the luckless chance 
Which gave such leader to our band. 
You've known me, Howard, from a child, 
You know I would not stoop so low, 
Howe'er incensed, with passion wild. 
To give or sanction such a blow. 
Yes, could I have that deed undone, 
I'd gladly give up half my years ; 
Save Marks, of all our band, not one, 
But death less than dishonor fears. 

Still, do I fear the shot you gave, 
Tho' merited and nobly done. 
Will send our leader to the grave. 
And then, my friend, your race is run. 
Few will regret our captain's death. 
And all believe that you did right ; 
Come, therefore, ere his latest breath. 
And join us in the holy fight. 
Your life, your family, your all, 
Will then be sacred in the cause ; 
If thus alone, you're doomed to fall, 
Sadly I say it ; by our laws. 
You're much my senior, and from you. 
My words of caution may meet scorn ; 
But hear them, for a prison's view 
May greet you ere another morn." 

"No doubt," said Howard in reply, 
"Youth prompts the offer you propose : 
Know then, young man, I'd rather die. 
Than stand among my country's foes. 



47 



I've been protected fifty years, 
With peaceful sunshine on my brow, 
Nor can I, for these craven fears, 
Desert my old Protector now. 
No, if my quiet life must go. 
My home made desolate and lost, 
Man-like I'll perish 'neath the blow — 
My country's life is worth the cost. 
Still, my young foe, our thanks receive, 
For the kind spirit you have shown ; 
We'll trust your goodness, and believe 
You'll leave us, quietly, alone. 
Age calls me from the world's rude strife, 
My home invites to calm repose. 
Here would I pass a peaceful life. 
You need not fear us e'en as foes." 

"I would not be misunderstood." 
Said Frank, "you know how small my power- 
I'd surely shield you if I could. 
Through every dark and trying hour; 
I'm only second in command, 
Unless our captain, Marks, should die, 
One hundred numbers all our band, 
Count then, what influence have I ? 
I tell you I've no power at all, 
Save, when commanded, to obey; 
I pray you then, ere vengeance fall. 
Haste, to some other land away. 
I'll soon be far from this calm vale, 
But while my memory endures, 
Tho' all my ardent hopes should fail, 
I'll kindly think of you and yours. 



48 

But duty calls — my friends, good bye, 
May brighter days around you smile, 
May heaven yet grant a cloudless sky, 
And peace life's closing hours beguile." 

One moment's glance and he was gone : 
We sat in silence, deep and long. 
It seemed a friend had been withdrawn — 
To call him foe were surely wrong, 
I longed to speak some word of praise, 
For Frank, or offer hopeful cheer 
But thought confused, — my heart would raise 
A drum-beat requiem to my ear. 
For Mr. Howard's noble soul 
Was strug'ling with his fortunes dire. 
His proud, free spirit spurned control, 
And burned with all its youthful fire. 
And yet he felt a sacred care. 
Which bound him tenderly to life, 
Proud he could perish, but O, where? 
Would roam his helpless child and wife ? 

Ella at last the silence broke, 
"How strange," she said, "Frank now appears ; 
This flag some kind emotion woke. 
He gazed on it almost with tears." 

"Yes, Frank is generous, and brave, 
And manly," Mr. Howard said, 
"Ah yes, his noble heart's a slave, 
Led captive by a giddy head. 



49 



He loves his native land, and still 
Is lost to her and honor's cause, 
With hiased mind and reckless will, 
Assails the best of human laws." 

But soon the conversation changed, 
And various hopeful plans were named, 
Through every labyrinth we ranged. 
Which safety's slightest shadow claimed. 
Now Mrs. Howard urged, "Let's fly, 
And seek in distant climes afar, 
Although beneath a stormy sky, 
A refuge from the storms of war." 
And Ella blamed herself, that she 
The flag, so thoughtlessly displayed; 
Knowing the rebel band to be 
In view, and proudly on parade. 
And why should she then interfere, 
To snatch the flag from foemen's hands ? 
For tho' she held the symbol dear, 
The act in bloody record stands. 

Her father lovingly caressed, 
And gently soothed her troubled mind, 
^'Nay, nay, dear child, be not distressed, 
'Twas love, not folly's madness blind. 
Sad the result, and yet, the deed 
Bespeaks the love of native land ; 
From terror let your heart be freed ; 
Kemember, we're in God's own hand." 
He then spoke fervently of heaven. 
And pointed us to homes on high. 
For innocence a refuge given. 
When death's cold shadows linger nigh. 
4 



60 



Thus hope, heyond the hopes of earthy 
Portrayed in faith, serene, sublime, 
Raised our desires to nobler worth, 
Than lingers 'mid the wrecks of time. 
Soothed by a sacred, holy trust. 
Our fears gave place to faith in God ; 
Earth's glitter now became as dust. 
We humbly kissed His chastening rod. 

That night I sat by Ella's side. 
And bathed her wound with anxious care, 
Felt in my heart a sister's pride, 
And breathed our wants to heaven in prayer. 
At last the roseate morning broke, 
The last which da^vned on us at home, 
That day the demon vengeance woke, 
And drove us o'er the world to roam. 

Eor, while the gathered household knelt, 
Aroiuid the fireside's altar stone, 
And God's own presence there was felt, 
As angels feel it 'round the throne ; 
A hoarse voice shook the startled air, 
While opened wide the parlor door — 
"What ! what is this ?" one said, "at prayer, 
While murder's blood still stains your floor." 

The speaker's livid features bore 
Such lines as dissipation leaves ; 
With fiery eyes, deep shaded o'er. 
And grizzled beard in matted sheaves. 



51 



His giant form strode through the room, 
Close followed by a boisterous band, 
Which looked as though the pit of doom 
Had spewed its contents on our land. 
With swaggering air, continued he, 
"You think to cheat your God, I 'spose ; 
But you will find your match in me. 
I'll give your carcass to the crows 
If you but dare one hand to raise. 
Here is your warrant, come away — 
No time for parley, prayer, or praise, — 
I say old dog, you've had your day. 
Don't speak a word ! your house and lands 
Are confiscated to the state; 
They soon will be in honest hands, 
And death not long for you will wait." 

An iron clang — a rush — our shriek! 
And Mr. Howard lay in chains. 
Then, the grim churl proceeds to speak, 
Of a slight task which yet remains. 
"Your wife and child will leave their home, 
Perhaps their God will hear, and save 
Their precious lives, while thus they roam; 
But I will take your goods, and — slave." 

"My goods," said Mr. Howard, then, 
"Like me, are now within your power, 
But, slave — the time has never been, 
From youth until this fatal hour, 
When I a human chattel held. 
Or sighed not at the brutal deed. 
Which oft each kind emotion quelled, 
And makes the hearts of millions bleed." 



52 



''Well, that's in keeping with the rest/' 
The monster said, and turned to me ;. 
His hideous glance pierced thro' my breast, 
Implying what his words would be. 
"Now, dare you, Howard, dare you claim, 
That this girl's mother was no slave ? 
You know she was, and she's the same ; 
For no Carolina court ere gave 
Pree papers to a slave of yours ; 
Know then, as slave she will be sold, 
And slave remain while life endures — 
She's pretty and will bring the gold." 

I pled by every sacred name, 
That charms the soul, or sooths the heart, 
That deepens love or brightens fame. 
That doom so dreadful might depart. 
He listened with a heartless sneer. 
And laughed, and mocked, in fiendish glee, — 
"Howl if you will, I tell you here, 
You'D never J never mgee be free." 

My heart grew still, and short my breath, 
I shivered, overcome with fears; 
Most earnestly I wished for death, 
But nature e'en forbade me tears. 
Tears crept from Mr. Howard's eyes. 
And tenderly he spoke to me, 
"As sure as God lives in the skies. 
Broken your bondage yet shall be. 
Be strong, dear child, in God be strong. 
Trust His eternal might and love, 
Through the short triumph of the wrong, 
Know He is watching just above." 



53 



*'Away !" the rebel leader cried, 
''These shallow tears, this prate of God, 
Here guards ! we'll tame this old man's pride, 
And as for her, not spare the rod," 
Then stern and grim, the guards drew nigh, 
While some bore Howard from my sight^ 
And I could neither fight nor fly, 
But darkness circled me like night. 



CHAPTER V. 

When next to consciousness restored, 
In Mrs. Howard's arms I lay; 
And Ella by my side deplored 
The injustice — dragging me away — 
Struggling her feelings to control, 
She trembled like an aspen tossed, 
Too great the burden on her soul — 
Hope died, and sad she sobbed, "We're lost ! 
Why was it, we have been called here ? 
Thus to be swallowed up in war ? 
Eriends changed to fiends — ^you, sister dear- 
A slave — sold from us — sundered far — 
And yet 'twas all my fault, for I, 
Provoked the heartless blow they gave ; 
O, could I for my father die ! 
And hide your misery in the grave." 

But Mrs. Howard, calm and strong, 
Tho' pallid still through grief and fears, 
Sat thoughtfully and silent long. 
Sighed deeply as she wiped her tears. 
At last she turned to me and told, 
Briefly, the story of our woes ; 
How my dear mother had been sold, 
And scorned with cruel words and blows ; 
How fainting with abuse, she came 
With me, an infant at her breast. 
And humbly begged, that she might claim 
Protection for her babe unblessed. 



55 



She prayed that we her child would buy, 
Saying, "You'll teach her virtue's way," 
And then she'd gladly yield, and die, 
The burden, life, might pass away. 

She spoke of better days, long past. 
When kindness smoothed her humble way, 
And love its radiance 'round her cast. 
And then, with change, was swept away. 
How gloom and sorrow gathered 'round. 
When death had snatched away her friends, 
And crime and cruelty were found. 
And all the ills which power lends. 
She told us how her husband died, 
Struck down before her aching sight, 
Because his heart in manly pride, 
At last resolved her wrongs to right. 
Then Mr. Howard's heart was moved. 
He bought my mother, also me; 
And she was as a sister loved. 
And all, save Law, pronounced us free. 
For South Carolina's laws were such. 
The slave, though freed, must yet await, 
And bear the hated, leprous touch. 
Until removed without the state. 

"She loved her little cottage home," 
Said Mrs. Howard, "and repaid. 
In love and gratitude, the sum 
Of all we gave your wants to aid. 
But cruelty had crushed her heart; 
She pined and drooped, from day to day ; 
A spirit moved her to depart. 
And you, so helpless, bade her stay. 



56 



But you remember that calm hour, 
When all alone with God and you, 
Life's vail, rent by death's gentle power, 
Brought the immortal to her view. 
'Twas then that we resolved to hide, 
Your parents' sad, sad, fate from youj 
And we their place to fill have tried, 
Moved only by affection true. 
We always looked on you with pride, 
A daughter equal with our own, 
And since your saintly mother died. 
Hoped as our child you would be known." 
We sent our daughter with you, where 
In school and social life the same, — 
No thought of caste could give you care. 
While both would bear the Howard's name. 
'Twas hard, with both from us so long. 
And yet our hearts found conscious rest. 
Hoping to shield you from all wrong, 
And make your life like Ella's — ^blest. 

''O, had we dreamed that such a doom. 
On you, our tender child, would fall. 
We had not called you to the gloom 
Which now, so darkly, wraps us all. 
Nay, we had sought some other land. 
Some place which freedom's feet had trod, 
Where law, with unrelenting hand. 
Chains not the image of our God. 
But here, our pleasant home was sweet. 
And they were friends who now are foes ; 
Fondly we hoped in this retreat, 
From war's wild rage to find repose. 



57 



Wrong jet may triumph for a time, 
And we from all we love be driven ; 
Still, are we sure, that every crime 
Is known, and will be judged in heaven. 
God help you, child — God help us all — 
How very strong our faith should be — • 
Resting on Him we cannot fall. 
Believe, and He wiU make you free." 

We sat beneath a shady tree. 
The Sim streamed round us warm and bright j 
"Mother," I said, "I must be free, 
I now can save myself by flight." 
My strength seemed equal to the race, 
But casting round a hasty glance, 
I saw the guard, in measured pace, 
Forth from the clustered trees advance. 
I then resolved to pause and wait, 
And seize some well-determined way. 
Some God-given providence, or fate. 
For, as a slave, I could not stay. 
Nor would my mother's fate be mine — 
The firm resolve was made, that I, 
Eather in servitude repine 
Would brave their cruel blows, and die. 

Ella, forgetful of her wound, 
Had, meanwhile, ventured to our room. 
And there our flag and letters found. 
And snatched them from impending doom. 
Some few mementos, too, she brought ; 
Some relics, by her father kept, 
Of friends who should not be forgot, 
Whose bodies in the dust now slept. 



58 



But, following close, tlie leader cried, 
"Back with those traps ! no longer yours." 
But Ella would not be denied, 
"No sir, they're ours while life endures; 
These relics, kept from other times — 
I'll clasp them, tho' you kill me here, 
'Twould add but one to other crimes. 
And have you aught of crime to fear ?" 
"Well," he replied, "the appraisement's made; 
And if, before the day of sale, 
One single thing should be mislaid, 
I'll have you both dragged to the jail." 

I saw the menials close the blinds, 
Then shut and bar the outer doors ; 
To sever every tie, that binds 
The heart to home and its loved stores. 
Then Mr. Howard's horse was brought, 
And saddled for my slavish flight ; 
I mounted, but have ne'er forgot. 
That scene, when fading from my sight. 
At parting, not a word was said ; 
Words were too poor, too meaningless — 
When hearts are withered, hopeless — dead — 
Tar worse than dead in their distress — 
When life becomes a grievous load, 
A worthless, haunting, heavy weight. 
Borne o'er a sunless, desert road. 
Death were a blessing, O, how great ! 

My more than mother raised her hand, 
As though to point me to the sky, 
And Ella, as Avith freedom's wand. 
Waved with her folded flag — Good bye. 



59 



The ruffian leader held my rein, 
As slow we passed through bower and gate, 
Until we reached the open plain, 
Which now seemed strangely desolate. 
And then I gazed a last adieu. 
And thought of bitter days to come, 
And, as home faded from my view, 
Sadly my heart sighed, "Farewell home." 

"Should Willard Preston know it all,— 
How Ella loves the flag he gave, 
Methinks 'twould every doubt recall — 
Hers, like his heart, is true and brave. 
Sadly she dwells amid the gloom. 
Dark as the old Egyptian night; 
Waiting for war to rend the tomb. 
And bring dead hopes and lives to light, 
I know I need not now repeat. 
The fond request already made. 
Should you and Willard ever meet. 
You'll tell him, what of her, I've said." 

We talked of Willard, and I told 
Of times when we were friends at school; 
And how, as years had onward rolled, 
We met, and talked of every rule, 
Learned to give usefulness to life. 
And yield relief to human woe. 
But never dreamed such deadly strife 
Would call from us avenging blow. 
But when the guns on Sumter woke, 
The patriot spirit of our land ; 
When iron lips dire treason spoke. 
We joined, at once, the loyal band; 



60 



Who, with unfaltering trust in heaven, 
IVIoved 'gainst oppression's hydra form; 
And, where the battle's bolts were driven. 
Bared their brave breasts to meet the stoma. 

Willard, who ever trust inspired. 
At once obtained a captain's place ; 
But I, with less ambition fired, 
JFelt as a private no disgrace. 
Nay, I was only proud to own. 
Among that serried host a name. 
All were as freedom's champions known, 
And any place was post of fame. 

"Will's regiment went with "Little Mac/' 
And in that bloody Richmond fight, 
Was slaughtered, but not driven back. 
It died, but never thought of flight. 
Will, wounded from the field was borne, 
Dragged from beneath the foemen's feet. 
Where lay his flag blood-stained and torn. 
(The bearer's heart had ceased to beat). 
His standard saved. Will soon again 
The fierce red surge of battle braved ; 
And on Antietam's bloody plain. 
Again his tattered banner waved. 

Our correspondence was maintained 
In hospital, in camp, or field. 
And much of pleasant pastime gained, 
Such as true friendly letters yield. 



61 



For I, to western fields assigned, 
Had met the foe in Tennessee ; 
And there, when rebel strength declined, 
Awhile our movements, seemed to be, 
Directed to the western hills 
Of South Carolina, and our road. 
Crossing Saluda's highest rills, 
Would pass near Ella's loved abode. 

Then Willard with his usual care, 
And loving constancy of mind. 
Requested, that when passing there, 
I'd try the Howards' home to find. 
But, westward, soon, we took our way, 
The foe our western line assailed ; 
We came to hold that foe at bay. 
So Willard Preston's message failed. 

While thus the letter T explained, 
My mind an inward longing felt 
To know how Mary freedom gained ; 
Where she had roved, or where had dwelt. 
And, as the days, in quietude, 
In our low cabin glided on. 
She, in her usual serious mood. 
Spoke of the gloomy days now gone. 
I may not give her words entire. 
But, as they now occur to mind. 
Lacking, of course, the depth and fire, 
Pathos, and episodes refined. 



CHAPTER VI. 

"War is another name for crime," 
Said Mary, "when o'er reason's swaj, 
The passions' power, for a time, 
Sweeps every tender thought away. 
And yet, it sometimes brings to view 
The finer feelings of the breast; 
The good, brave, generous and true. 
In war will bear their parts the best. 
When selfish hosts depend on might, 
Holding a cruel, heartless sway ; 
Before whose rage the pure and right, 
Blenches in pallid fear away; 
What nobler heart has earth e'er given, 
Than his who bravely breasts the strife, 
Like the great sacrifice of heaven. 
Yields, for his fellow men, his life ? 

But when, with all the light divine, 
Which God has ere to mortals given, 
A senate dares its network twine 
To contravene the truth of heaven ; 
And calm, with thoughtful malice, build 
A system guarded, firm and strong. 
Oppression's odious chains to gild, 
And give security to wrong — 
Such wrongs as caused my father's death, 
And laid my mother in the grave. 
And then, with God-insulting breath. 
Condemned me as a purchased slave. 



63 



It matters not how bright the skies, 
The fields how fertile, or how fair, 
Howe'er such nation's hopes may rise, 
God's blighting curse will linger there. 

War only lingers for a time, 
And peace erects the hero's tomb; 
But slav'ry — a perpetual crime, 
Shrouds e'en its martyrs' graves in gloom. 
And how their lives ? a scathing lie. 
A mockery to the human soul. 
Existence without love — a sigh — 
Breathed 'neath oppression's stern control. 

God only knows the sickening fears. 
That chilled my heart, as it were stone, 
And e'en denied the boon of tears, 
When wandering to the dim unknown. 
'Twas well the journey was not long, 
That ride with those flint-hearted men. 
Or hopeless dread had been too strong 
For reason's fainting powers then. 
But ere the western mountains hid 
The sun beneath their crests of gold. 
We reached a cottage-house, amid 
The trees whose clasping arms enfold 
The gables, and the mossy eves ; 
Forming beneath a shadowy way. 
Here halting, under whispering leaves, 
They told me to dismount and stay. 
The dusky inmates shyly peered. 
From doors and windows, at the sight ; 
And some shrank back as tho' they feared 
While others whispered, "See, she's white!" 



64 



Passing amid the gazing throng, 
I sunk into a chair to rest, 
But here I had not waited long, 
Till, by a colored girl addressed, 
"Come 'long with me, Ize goin' to show 
De room whar massa wants yo kept." 
Kising, as though at once to go, 
Quick to the shady yard I stept — 
The cavalcade had gone, and hope. 
The hope of freedom, urged my flight. 
The woods around afforded scope 
For shelter, till the shades of night 
Would hide me in their wide embrace; 
And then o'er mountain, vale, or glen, 
I'd seek some solitary place, 
Far from those iron-hearted men. 

My mind had scarcely framed the thought, 
When, lightly, to the gate I passed ; 
But by a giant arm was caught, 
Which, spite my struggles, held me fast, 
Tes, they had placed a minion guard, 
(A man in naught but outward form,) 
Among the trees, within the yard, 
To capture me, or give alarm, 
Should I attempt escape by flight; 
And he, poor menial of the train. 
Dragged me indoor by brutish might. 
And, heartless, bound me with a chain. 

There, in the garret where I lay, 
Softly the evening shadows crept. 
Exhaustion swept my fears away. 
And dulled my senses, till I slept. 



65 



No dreams disturbed that night's repose, 
Till sunshine, streaming through the pane, 
Brought back the burden of my woes, 
And waked me to my fears again. 
Now first, I found relief in tears. 
As, silently, in calm review. 
Slowly the sorrow-laden years. 
Their sable curtains round me drew. 

At last, a brighter hope was given. 
And then, I felt relief was nigh : 
A merciful, indulgent heaven, 
Would, surely, give me leave to die. 
Calmed by the thought, I wept no more ; 
But with a fervent, grateful prayer. 
Thanked God, that He had scattered o'er, 
My early life, his blessings rare. 
Never before had been revealed, 
So consciously, the love divine. 
Such care as heaven alone can yield. 
Which had since early youth been mine. 

My faith grew strong, God's love secure. 
What though some present hopes were riven, 
God's providence is firm and sure, — 
Eternal joy would yet be given. 
My heart was not unhappy then, 
Firm in the confidence of faith, 
I felt no fear of fiends, or men, 
And could have triumphed over death. 

x^t last two negro girls appeared. 
Bearing my breakfast, well prepared. 
Shyly they came, as though they feared, 
Some maniac, or demon, snared. 
5 



66 



But when I spoke in kindly tone, 

They gazed in sympathy sincere ; 

Which in their saddened features shone, 

And glistened in a tell-tale tear. 

And soon with fond, confiding speech. 

They hlamed the wretch who chained me here, 

But hoped some better home I'd reach, 

And find a mistress just as dear, 

As her from whom I would be sold. 

When came the destined day of sale. 

Then Mr. Howard's name was told, 

(They saw him carried by to jail). 

And seemed to know why he was brought, 

And chained within a felon's cell; 

Thus, glancing on, from thought to thought, 

Found much of interest to tell. 

That this plantation, slaves and all, 
Belonged to Captain Marks, they said. 
But now was managed by Jim Small, 
Of whom they felt no little dread. 
'Twas he who stopped me in my flight. 
And well might those within his power. 
Tremble before the fiendish light, 
Which gleamed beneath his ghastly lower. 
I'll not repeat the tales they told, 
Of crimes 'twould chill your blood to hear, — 
Enough, the sign all might behold. 
Writ on his features deep and clear. 

Here for a week I wore my chain. 
Cheered only by my dusky mates, 
Who brought my daily food, and fain 
With mine would have exchanged their fates. 



07 

Yet they were cheerful, dreaming not 
Of freedom, or its priceless store, 
The present occupied their thought, 
This satisfied, they asked no more. 
I loved the melodies they sung. 
With cadenced echo and repeat; 
Oft at their work the ditties rung, 
Uncouth in rhyme, but soft and sweet. 

Strangely enough, I found they knew 
The wondrous history of the day ; 
And later, proved their stories true. 
But how they learned them could not say. 
I learned that Marks, though wounded bad. 
Was slowly, surely getting well ; 
At this I felt relieved and glad, — 
Howard might soon escape his cell. 
A company, they said, had gone, 
Led by Frank Cleveland, to the war ; 
And others still were hurrying on. 
To fill the gathering ranks afar. 

They told me, too, the day, when I 
Would in the market place be sold; 
Gazed on, by every cruel eye. 
And purchased by some monster's gold. 
And, O, the horror ! still it runs 
In curdling coldness through my veins— 
A scene which even fancy shuns — • 
Far worse than death in mental pains. 
Ah yes ! again I prayed for death, 
Begged God, as still the time drew nigh, 
That He would but recall my breath. 
And bear my anguished soul on high. 



68 



But time sped on : the day at last, 
Dawned from a dark and weeping sky; 
And I prepared to brave the blast, 
As one who nerves her heart to die. 
Yet, when my stern, harsh, captors came, 
And with an oath, unclasped my chain, 
And with a jest pronounced my name, 
I felt my rising fears again. 
They bade me with my utmost care, 
Arrange my toilet for the sale — 
On such occasion ! what to wear ? 
Of course, apparent efforts fail. 

At length when summoned to depart, 
When ushered to the misty air. 
Vague, dreamy phantoms round me start. 
The real seemed but fancies there. 
Then Greenfield's roofs and spires arose. 
Like pictures drawn against the sky; 
And neat homes nestled in repose. 
Rural, and pleasing to the eye ; 
Next, passing through the busy street, 
The idle crowd gazed as we passed. 
And next, the gathered concourse meet, 
The market place was reached at last. 

The hour had come: without delay 
They placed me on the salesman's stand ; 
The crowd moved up, with rush and sway ; 
Before, behind, on either hand. 
Circled within that living wall, 
I heard their jests, obscene, profane, — 
When strangeness settled over all. 
Relieving my bewildered brain. 



69 

There, as a statue still, I stood, 
Nor cared, nor feared, nor felt, nor knew, — 
That mocking gaze had chilled my blood, 
But God in mercy brought me through. 

Still, when my mind recalls that sight, 
Which human hideousness unrolls; 
I wonder at the awful blight. 
Which blotted out a thousand souls. 
I wonder, that where Christian peace, 
And love and freedom had been taught, — • 
Souls seeking pardon and release. 
From the dread wrath which sin had wrought j 
Even those, with reverend look and air. 
Who preach of dress and worldly pelf ; 
Condemning strife with studious care, 
Saying "Love thy neighbor as thyself." 
Were not all these within that crowd ? 
Yet no condemning voice was heard. 
No sympathy was breathed aloud, 
Methinks no heart with pity stirred. 

Was there no father, whose loved child, 
In age or aught resembled me ? 
No brother there, with sisters mild. 
And chaste, and loving, true and free ? 
No lover there, whose maiden's eyes. 
Or raven hair, were like my own ? 
No man, who ever learned to prize 
A woman's love and kindly tone ? 
Not there the chivalrous spirit proud ? 
The boast of South Carolina's race. 
That deed like this should be allowed ? 
The Turkish tyrant's worst disgrace. 



70 



Yes, all were there — the priest of God, 
The father, brother, lover, friend; 
And he who loved the soil he trod. 
Boasting the rights he would defend. 
No doubt that multitude who saw 
A villain buy me for a slave, 
Would witness such a scene with awe, 
In pagan lands beyond the wave. 
But here unmoved, without remorse, 
The deed could not a frown provoke; 
And had I been a dog or horse 
As much of interest it had woke. 

Ah, friend, let statesmen plead their cause, 
Philosophize, extenuate, 
Reason and God's eternal laws, 
Such crimes can never palliate. 
Nature abhors and will condemn, 
And punish guilt wherever found ; 
Vain efforts all, the tide to stem. 
And fence with law oppression round. 
But, O, what else so hopeless, dire ? 
As that which stultifies the soul. 
Sears the affections, as with fire. 
Bobs even honor of control ; 
While loss of caste, pride's senseless dread. 
Coils, serpent-like, around the heart, 
And inward ghastly fires are shed. 
By subtle falsehood's fiendish art. 
What curse more bitter can there be ? 
What spreads so deep a gloom around ? 
Resting alike on bond and free. 
As that where slavery is found ? 



CHAPTER YII. 

*^Sure punishment will follow there, 
Where'er oppression's feet have trod, 
And injured innocence, in prayer, 
Breathes out her wrongs and woes to God. 
When purity and faith are found. 
Within a heart, though chained in prison, 
God's arm will have those chains unbound, 
Or take that struggling soul to heaven." 

Those words came to my mind when told, 
While passing from the crowd that dayj 
That I to Captain Marks was sold. 
And hence his mandate must obey. 
For I was his — his to control, — 
My body, mind, and soul, they said, 
But then I rather thought the soul 
Thrown-in, not valued in the trade. 
However that might be, I know 
My moral sense was so obtuse, 
I did not feel obliged to go, 
Nor yet to frame the least excuse. 
Though he paid all my worth in gold, 
And held his title clear per se; 
And vicious law pronounced me sold, 
God and my soul proclaimed me free. 
'Twas force — blind, brutal force, alone, 
Compelled my steps to Marks' abode ; 
But even then, God's promise shone, 
A beacon o'er my gloomy road. 



72 



Marks' residence was somewhat grand, 
Nestled in a suburban vale ; 
Where trees, in vinj arches stand, 
And opening flowers perfume the gale. 
But broken fences marked decay, 
The house was weather-stained and brown, 
Paint from the gables washed away. 
And the wide porch seemed crumbling down. 
Perhaps it was the darkened skies 
Which gave the place an air of gloom ; 
Like the deep silence, such as lies 
In solemn shadows 'round a tomb. 
Whatever it might be, my mind 
Was filled with ghostly forms and fears ; 
Just such strange phantoms as we find 
In weird old tales of former years. 

The dim hall echoed to our tread 
(For I was brought with guard and guide), 
And through a doorway, arched o'erhead, 
Entered a parlor low and wide. 
Here on a sofa Marks reclined. 
Smiled blandly, and a welcome gave; 
Seemed pleased and called his agent kind, 
Because, forsooth, I came his slave. 
But Mrs. Marks, with manner mild, 
And heart to woman's nature true, 
Spoke tenderly, as to a child. 
And with me quietly withdrew. 

Such kindness strangely moved my heart 
And forced the warm tears from my eyes ; 
"O dry those tears, let fear depart," 
She said in soft, yet sad surprise. 



73 



"Ah yes," continued she, "I know. 
You're not for servitude designed ; 
Whatever learning could bestow, 
Was lavished on your youthful mind. 
And I cannot, nay, would not dare, 
In mockery of Heaven's decree. 
Throw o'er your life the slave's despair, 
Or have you feel aught else than free. 
I'll love you as a friend sincere. 
Companion of my lonely hours — 
I know we will be happy here. 
In this secluded home of ours." 

I wondered, when, in generous praise, 
She kindly spoke the Howards' name j 
No condemnation of "their ways," 
Nor even slightest shade of blame. 
How painful was the contrast then. 
What difference of mind and tone; 
When, passing to his room again, 
I found the Captain there alone. 

"You will not find me harsh," said he, 
"If you will only bear in mind, 
That you are now no longer free, 
And be attentive, prompt, and kind. 
You've no doubt from the Howards learned 
Their silly cant and showy pride ; 
But now, the tables have been turned. 
We'll have such nonsense laid aside. 
Of course, with blacks you need not mate, 
But then, I'd have you keep your place ; 
And know, whatever be your fate. 
Obedience is no disgrace. 



74 



Go now, I'll liave my supper brought, 
For when this cursed wound is dressed, 
I'm always so fatigued, I ought, 
To be allowed some quiet rest." 

How could I help but feel disgust ? 
Contempt, — God help me, — scorn and hate I 
For that vile creature of the dust, 
And all his words would indicate. 
I throw God's sacred claims aside ? 
I bear in mind a slavish doom ? 
And I a tyrant's will abide ? 
Never while earth contains a tomb ! 
But one command I would obey, 
And the first hopeful chance embrace; 
Yes, he would find, if once away. 
That I would, surely, keep my place. 

However, Marks' request was told, 
And supper o'er, — the surgeon's art. 
Assisted by the whole household, 
Attentive all to do their part. 
His wife with constant, tenderest care, 
Anticipated each desire; 
Yet bitterly, at times, he'd swear, 
Reproaching her with fiendish ire. 
Thus, day by day, as weeks passed by, 
I helped that sad, kind-hearted wife; 
Whose gayest laugh was but a sigh. 
To nurse that viper back to life. 



15 



Poor woman ! 'twas not years alone, 
That laced the silver in her hair, 
x\nd gave her voice its sad low tone, 
Or traced her brow with lines of care. 
No, she had seen her fond hopes die, 
Youth's brightest visions swept away, 
Life's treasures all in ruins lie. 
And witnessed love's last charm decay. 
Her husband had his faith forgot, 
The cup had brutalized his mind; 
Yet, patiently, she bore her lot ; 
Pitied, but could not be unkind. 
God only knows her victories won, 
Or how unequal was the strife, 
And when her weary race is run, 
Her's may not be a wasted life. 

Three months wore dreamily away, 
And Marks, recovered from his wound, 
Was summoned, and without delay, 
Went northward, to the army bound. 
'Twas a relief to see him go. 
His insults silently I'd borne. 
How could I help but hope, his foe 
Might cause him never to return ? 

I now began my plans for flight. 
But learned a patrol was kept ; 
And sentinels, by day and night, 
Like vipers, 'round the dwellings crept. 
Of course, suspicion fell on me, 
And if I ever walked the street, 
A patrol guard was found to be 
Posted, where we must pass or meet. 



76 



As summer passed hope seemed to die, 
Escape became more doubtful still ; 
I felt, if I again should try, 
Success must all my plans fulfill ; 
For if returned, the overseer 
!M!arks left in charge of his estate, — 
A man without a heart or tear — 
Would crush me to a darker fate. 
But O, how much I wished to know, 
How Ella and her mother fared, 
I longed in search of them to go ; 
But, such a venture, never dared. 

At last a rumor reached my ear, 
Of interest though an idle tale, 
'Twas said, that Mr. Howard here. 
Still pined within the county jail. 
His wife and daughter earned their bread 
At Glenwood, near their former home ; 
And, till they knew him free, or dead, 
Hence could not be induced to roam. 
Nay they were certain, when the war, 
Now surging 'gainst the northern line, 
Had spent its fury, and the star 
Of peace would on our country shine; 
The captive, from his prison freed. 
Would find his home restored again, 
And every dark and cruel deed. 
Would, with each wrong, be righted then. 

Ah, yes, the war might give me back 
To freedom and my dearest friends ; 
And, though it left a blood-stained track, 
'Twould teach us what o'er crime impends. 



nn 

Yes, it miglit to tlie world unfold, 
The mystery of a nation's crime, 
Shame the corrupting lust of gold, 
And give new glories to our time. 

'Twas thus a deep, dread, interest grew, 
'Round all connected with the strife ; 
For, on that struggle, well I knew 
Was staked a dearer boon than life. 
O, how I trembled ! when the town 
Flashed in illumination's flame. 
As night was gathering darkly down, 
And news of northern failure came. 

But when the autumn tints had filled 
The fading foliage with light, 
When all the woodland flowers were killed, 
And leaves came rustling from their height ; 
A panic o'er the South was spread, 
Which gave my heart a thrill of hope; 
A host was coming, it was said. 
With which no southern force could cope. 
Then cannon spoke the stern decree. 
And pealed abroad the dread alarms ; 
Ah, 'twas a sight I wept to see. 
That wild, delirious rush to arms ! 
The town with martial strains was rife, 
While from the vales new levies come ; 
Until it seemed that southern life. 
Throbbed to the echo of the drum. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Winter at last brought deep repose. 
A strange, dread, quiet then came on, 
Broke only by the wail which rose, 
From homes whose last fond hope had gone. 
Twice o'er the homes a shudder rolled, 
As when an earthquake stirs the sea ; 
'Twas said, the slaves, now uncontrolled, 
Were rising, banded, to be free. 
Then armed patrols in bands appeared, 
Who held their vigils night and day. 
But the vain phantoms, which they feared, 
Passed like a fevered dream away. 

Spring came and went, the summer passed ; 
A hundred battle fields had given 
Such fame, as might in story last, 
Yet, few Confederate hopes were riven. 
But many a hero's life had fled ; 
And desolation, grief, and gloom. 
Surrounded hearts, whose hopes were dead, 
Lost in an undistinguished tomb. 

But I, in quietude, had learned. 
To prize my patient, injured friend; 
Paithful, however fortune turned, 
Her kindness could not change, nor end, 
Together we arranged the flowers. 
Together in the forest strayed ; 
And in the midnight's darkest hours, 
Together we have knelt and prayed. 



79 



Our visitors were few, and those, 
I always shunned with guarded care ; 
x\nd dreaded, for I knew them foes, 
Mj country's foes that gathered there. 
Sometimes they looked on me with scorn ; 
And once I heard, with some surprise, 
A lady, "to the manor born," 
Say, "These white servants I despise." 
Little she dreamed how wild, how free, 
What small restraint my spirit knew ; 
How full determined I would be, 
To nature's God and freedom true. 

Oft times, when o'er the busy town, 
The sunset flung its gorgeous fold. 
When domes, and spires, and hills around. 
Flashed back the light of burnished gold ; 
I've gazed upon one building there. 
And thought, within its grated gloom. 
My dear friend, Howard, worn with care , 
Repined as in a living tomb. 
O, could I but have sought his cell, 
My heart's deep gratitude to speak ; 
And to him there, have leave to tell 
How strength had come when low and weak, 
How, when remorseless, imjust law, 
My life's last fading hope had riven, 
God, who the cruel action saw. 
In my distress, a friend had given. 

There, in the night of his despair, 
A beam of dawning light might come, 
A faith, to fervent inward prayer, 
A hope, for his forsaken home ; 



80 



Joy, that his country's flag still bore 
Its ancient honor in the field ; 
And still, in triumph, floated o'er 
A million hearts that would not yield. 
But all my wishes were in vain, 
I saw but once that iron door ; 
A menial thrust me back again. 
And charged me to return no more. 
I begged that Mrs. Marks would go. 
And bear my message to the cell ; 
But thus, to make her husband's foe, •■■ 
Her friend, she said, would not be well. 
So I could only hope and pray, 
And dream upon the checkered past ; 
And watch for that victorious day, 
That day, of all our woes, the last 

When autumn's breath again had swept 
The withered foliage from the trees ; 
And ice along the streams had crept. 
And touched with frost the wandering breeze ; 
Marks, with a band of boisterous friends, 
One evening galloped through the gate. 
"Here," shouted he, "our journey ends, 
I'm weary and the hour is late — 
Dismount ! we'll have a glorious time — 
No Yankees here — no mounting guard ; 
Tou'U find the Captain's store is prime; 
And war, of course, claims its reward." 
I scarce dared look upon those men; 
Grim-visaged, scarred, and weather beat ; 
Ah yes, I thought, the time was, when 
Warm hearts were trampled 'neath their feet. 



81 



A sumptuous supper was prepared, 
And Marks, in pompous dignity 
Presided at the board, nor spared 
His boasts of southern chivalry. 
Thoughts kindled by their brandy's flame, 
With heaven insulting oaths expressed; 
And deeds, which might a demon shame, 
Were told, and laughed in boisterous jest. 
Companions like their leader, all 
In speech and manner, comrades true. 
One hoped, of such the number small. 
In all ranks, whether gray or blue. 

Their rudeness made me sick at heart, 
Trembling I sought my room alone; 
But through the house, in every part. 
Echoed the thunder of their tone. 
Loudly they laughed, and talked, and sung ; 
And cheered each rebel leader's name ; 
And sometimes, as the chorus rung, 
They boasted, largely, their own fame. 
At last, the orgies died away. 
And on the carpet wrapped in sleep ; 
Which from intoxication's sway, 
O'erpowering, and doubly deep, 
They waked not, till the sun rose high. 
And from the hazy sky looked down ; 
When, breakfast o'er, their steeds they try, 
And gallop madly to the town. 
For days this revel, wild, was kept. 
Still alternating with the town. 
And still, each night, the revelers slept 
Promiscuous on the carpet down. 

6 



82 



Once, when the revelers came late, 
And called me to unlock the door ; 
Their loud oaths made me hesitate, 
(The J seemed more rude than e'er before), 
My pause was but a moment, when 
The Captain's angry voice was heard ; 
The stern demand was made again, 
And still I gave no answering word. 
Leaving the lamp, in haste I fled, 
Back through the kitchen to the door, 
Thence out into the darkness sped, 
Hoping to see those men no more. 

But, Mrs. Marks, who knew my fright, 
And seemed my quick resolve to read, 
Called out to stop my hurried flight. 
Saying that she would intercede. 
She spoke of being left alone — 
I paused, and spoke the fatal word 
"Which made to Marks my presence known, 
(For he our conversation heard), 
And with light step, as one possessed. 
Did slyly circumvent my path. 
And, ere I had his presence guessed. 
Was grasped — when he expressed his wrath 
In words which burned within my brain. 
Words which my tongue would not repeat ; 
Then harshly dragged me back again. 
And firmly bound my hands and feet. 

"You'll not escape me now," said he, 
''Hence, to the camp I'll make you go ; 
And the vain dream that you are free 
You'll find will only end in woe." 



83 



I did not venture to reply — 
Felt sure no human heart was near, 
To breathe, for my sad fate, a sigh, 
Or mingle with my own a tear ; 
Save Mrs. Marks, and though she pled 
My cause, and begged that I might stay ; 
Reproaches fell upon her head. 
And rudely she was thrust away. 
Vain all her efforts to assuage — 
Her husband's anger spurned control, 
Fed by intoxication's rage. 
Left not a vestige of the soul. 

Dimly the morning's twilight chill. 
Crept 'round us as we passed the town; 
Clouds hid the summits of each hill. 
And swaying snow flakes circled down. 
My fetters had been laid aside. 
And mounted with that drunken guard, 
To Mrs. Marks was e'en denied 
One word, her kindness to reward. 
But, circled by the band, I rode. 
The object of their sneers and jest; 
Until the depot's lanterns glowed. 
When, quickly, to the cars we pressed. 
Confederate standards floated near. 
Brightly the glancing bayonets shine. 
Throbbed the deep drum while cheer on cheer, 
Boiled from the crowd along the line. 
With one wild scream, away we sped, 
Swift dashing through the murky air — 
Then my last lingering hope was dead, 
But calmness kindly came in prayer. 



84 



The car was filled with war worn men, 
Vet'rans from many a northern fight, 
Returning to the field again. 
Just from their homes, where love and light. 
One might have thought, would soften down 
The harsher feelings of the soul ; 
And, for a time, remove the frown 
Which lingers under war's control. 
But gazing o'er the motley bands. 
Wild with their revelry and rum. 
None would have guessed 'twere Christian lands. 
Or Christian homes, from whence they come. 
True, some in serious, pensive mood. 
Gazed sadly at their native hills. 
But the wild, roaring multitude. 
Seemed heedless as the mountain rills. 

Within my heart a quiet stole. 
Not the strange, blankness of despair — 
The melancholy of the soul — 
But peace, such as God gives, was there. 
I felt this wondrous earthly life. 
With all its dreams, and joys, and fears, 
Vain hopes, and unrewarded strife. 
Its sighs, and unregarded tears. 
Was past : and all would soon be o'er, 
In that short struggle yet to come. 
The future — ^mystery no more. 
But friends restored — sweet rest — sweet home. 

At last, slow moving through the car, 
A tall and dark-eyed soldier came, 
His face disfigured by a scar. 
The vet'ran's badge of honest fame. 



85 



He bent his piercing glance on me — 

I knew Frank Cleveland's tender eyes — 

He paused a moment, seemed to be 

Transfixed with horror and surprise. 

"Great God !" he whispered, "this my friend I 

My playmate in the long ago ! 

Shall not the curse of heaven descend. 

On him who drags you down to woe ?" 

Taking a seat close to my side, 
He whispered, "Let the truth be told. 
Trust me, a friend, though all untried, 
Say, have you really been sold ?" 
"Ah, yes," continued he, "I know, 
All Ella Howard told of you. 
Although a tale of deepest woe, 
Is true, alas ! too sternly true ! 
But know, if power of mine, can give 
You back to freedom, and your friends ; 
Free as the mountain air you'll live, 
Free, till your heart its throbbing ends." 

Words uttered in such hopeful tone, 
From one so marked for manly worth, 
A heart responsive to my own. 
Recalled my spirit back to earth. 
Once more I gazed upon the sky. 
And woods, and sunny flakes could see; 
And as those bright gleams glided by, 
Hope whispered I might yet be free. 



86 



Trank had just spent a week at home, 
And all his early haunts had seen ; 
And told the changes that had come, 
"With the sad partings that had been. 
He told me where, in Glenwood's vale, 
Ella her little school had taught. 
And cheered her mother, sad and frail, 
Nor sighed, nor murmured at her lot. 
He also spoke in hopeful tone. 
Respecting Mr. Howard's fate. 
His innocence was clearly shown, 
Of any crime against the state ; 
"For he had only raised his hand, 
Hoping to save his daughter's life — 
A father's duty — love's demand. 
Who but a coward shrink the strife ? 

"Ah yes," said Frank, "he soon will be. 
From prison and his charge relieved ; 
And might obtain his home, could he. 
Of his false hopes, be undeceived. 
But yesterday I sought his cell. 
To speak some kindly words of cheer; 
A message from his wife to tell. 
Which he received with many a tear. 
Yet, when I told how useless — vain — 
Had been all efforts to restore 
The Union : that with thousands slain, 
'Twas severed, and for evermore : 
That ho might now regain his wealth. 
Snatch those he loved from famine's jaws, 
And raise his own declining health, 
By swearing to support our cause. 



87 



Tears flowed afresh, "Alas," lie said, 
"Here let me in this prison lie. 
My sense of honor is not dead. 
And with our country we can die.'* 

"His patriot spirit, so sublime, 
Honor, so worthy of the name; 
Marked my career as one of crime, 
And made me blush for very shame. 
Mary, I've met our Federal foe. 
On many a stern contested field ; 
But Howard gave the hardest blow, 
His truth has almost made me yield. 
But we, against the Nation's laws. 
Have dared to light the battle's flame; 
And now success must crown our cause, 
Or we must bear the traitor's name. 
We're now to western fields assigned, 
If there our cause we cannot save. 
At least one hope relieves the mind, 
Never to fiU a coward's grave." 

Thus while the train rushed madly on, 
O'erladen with its living freight; 
Frank spoke of peaceful days, now gone, 
And better thoughts which came too late. 
Sometimes he paced with serious air, 
Among the throng which filled the car ; 
But his blank smile, almost despair, 
Showed what his faith was in the war. 
Poor Frank, the story Ella told. 
And Howard's principles so pure, 
Had all his sympathies controlled 
Raised doubts his mind could scarce endure. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Sometimes to other cars we changed, 
Or paused to take our hurried meals ; 
But night as well as day we ranged. 
Lulled by the rumble of the wheels, 
And tired, I sometimes sweetly slept. 
And dreamed of childhood's quiet home ; 
And sometimes silent vigils kept. 
Tranced with the thoughts of days to come. 
Frank sometimes spoke a word of cheer, 
And smiled his melancholy smile ; 
But Captain Marks came seldom near, 
I thought him drunken all the while. 

We reached the Mississippi's shore, 
And then upon its mighty tide. 
When darkness spread the landscape o'er, 
On transports up the stream we glide. 
Slowly the steamers plowed the waves. 
And, bending westward on their way. 
The swift Arkansas current braves — 
On, on, still on, without delay. 
December's breath swept wild and chill. 
In fitful gusts around the fleet. 
Dark clouds the frowning heavens fill. 
And sometimes smeared the decks with sleet. 

We came to Little Rock, at last. 
And there my camp life was begun ; 
I felt relieved, the journey past, 
And glad once more to see the sun. 



89 

Glad, though amid the camp's wild din, 
Now to escape my watcher's gaze, 
Which sternly fixed on me had been, 
So many weary nights and days. 

The Captain seemed so strangely kind, 
I thought, at first, the sacred power 
Of God had changed his heart and mind, 
In some reflective, silent hour. 
And thought, what joy such change would bring 
His patient, prayerful, suffering wife ; 
How to her heart new hopes would cling, 
And twine with blessings round her life. 
I prayed that he might pardon find ; 
He who on human hearts had trod. 
Renewed in spirit and in mind. 
Contrite, might find the peace of God. 
Vain hope ! 'twas but the Siren's strain — 
The serpent's charm — a demon's grace; 
A plan by which he sought to gain 
My soul within his foul embrace. 
Quick from his leprous touch I flew. 
Pursued, but fear increased my flight. 
Night over me her mantle threw. 
And hid me from his loathsome sight. 

I sought the hospital, and there 
Watched by a dying soldier's bed. 
Breathed for his parting soul a prayer. 
And leaned to catch the words he said. 
Then wiped the death damps from his brow; 
And, as the lamp my features gave. 
He shuddering, whispered, "Who art thou ? 
Why haunt me even to the grave ?" 



90 



Surprised, at once I spoke my name, 
And then some explanation gave. 
"Ah yes," he said, "the very same — 
But tell me, are you still a slave ?" 
I nodded an assent, and then, 
Imploringly he looked on me; 
And said, "Do you remember when 
You begged that I would set you free ? 
Deafly I turned from your appeal, 
Insultingly, I mocked your prayer ; 
Though vengeance slumbered, now I feel 
God's mercy will not always spare. 
To-night I heard the voice of prayer, 
Just such a prayer as mother prayed. 
When, falling in the tempter's snare, 
First from the paths of truth I strayed. 
Her spirit may be lingering near, 
Gazing on me in silent grief — 
O, Savior, send thy mercy here ! 
Remember Calvary's dying thief !'* 

There lay that stern, case-hardened man, 
(The same who claimed me as a slave), 
Shrinking from death's relentless ban. 
Yet, surely sinking to the grave. 
Again I called the surgeon near; 
He shook his head and heaved a sigh ; 
And leaving, whispered in my ear, 
"Efforts are vain, — that man must die." 

I wept. "Don't weep for me," he said, 
"Those tears are stains upon my soul ; 
I've wronged you, mocked you, when you pled. 
And scorned God s mercy and control." 



91 



"But I forgive you," I replied, 
"And pray God also to forgive ; 
Remember our Redeemer died. 
Suffered for sin, that we might live." 
Then, from my soul, I breathed a prayer, 
Kneeling again beside his bed ; 
And when I rose, death's icy stare, 
Impressive, told me he was dead. 
As twilight tinged the eastern skies, 
And mingled with the morning air, 
I crossed his hands and closed his eyes, 
In death's dread silence, left him there. 

Marks did not come to seek me here, 
But, strangely, left me quite alone; 
Perhaps he felt a lurking fear. 
That 1 his baseness had made known. 
Howe'er, that hospital became, 
For me, the only home I knew — 
Weeks passed away, and still, the same 
Sad scenes of suffering met my view. 

Ah, there are lessons never learned, 
Elsewhere than at the couch of death ; 
Longings, the mind had not discerned, 
Oome with the last expiring breath. 
Each crime, nay, every selfish act. 
Leaves on the human soul a scar, 
And death reveals the awful fact, 
When time, returnless, flies afar. 
How oft this lesson comes too late, 
Brings only loss, remorse and pain ; . 
Eor then the chance to change our fate, 
Can never, never, come again. 



92 



Vice, vainly, trusts some future time, 
And slights the mercy God has given ; 
Hoping ere death, to leave each crime. 
And fit the darkened soul for heaven. 
Vain ! vain ! I've seen those hopes expire ; 
The young, the middle aged, the old. 
Filled v^ith regrets and terrors dire, 
Change to the marble dull and cold. 

But there were those whom mortal pain, 
Could never conquer nor affright; 
Who died, as though to die was gain. 
And death brought round them only light. 
At one with God, their duty done. 
Their country, dear ones, home and all, 
Committed to the Mighty One, 
Whose love marks e'en the sparrow's fall. 
Such always conquer ; though they die, 
Their victories grasp eternity ; 
When earth itself in ruins lie, 
Such souls shall their achievements see. 

But now a forward movement swept 
The tents from all the slopes around, 
And I no longer vigils kept. 
With travelers to the lowly mound. 
'Twas a relief, at last, to leave 
That charnel-house of human pain ; 
Instead its poisonous breath, to breathe 
The pure, free air of heaven again. 
I took my former place once more. 
But Marks had laid his mask aside, 
More perfect demon never bore 
The human form or tyrant's pride. 



93 

I would, could I the guard have passed, 
Have trusted fortune with my fate ; 
That watchful circle held me fast, 
So I could only hope and wait. 

Besides, young Cleveland seemed a friend, 
And promised his protecting arm ; 
Saying, ''In spite of Marks, he'd send 
Me safe from capture, free from harm, 
Across within the Union lines; 
And there, no doubt, I would be free. 
For there that starry banner shines, 
Which I had so long pined to see. 
Our regiment, keeping the advance, 
Would first approach the Union line; 
And doubtless, Frank would find some chance 
To send me to his foes, not mine. 
This hope sustained me on the way. 
And yet I sometimes thought 'twere vain ; 
I'd seen so many hopes decay, 
I scarce dared trust those dreams again. 

That march, so fraught with hopes and fears, 
Came to an ominous close at last: 
In front the Union line appears, 
Ready to brave the battle's blast. 
All day the storm clouds in the sky, 
Had scowled upon us as in scorn, 
And night closed in with tempest high, 
And blinding snows on north-wind borne. 
Frank had gone out to post the guard. 
And I assumed my evening care; 
The Captain's supper was prepared. 
While he, half drunk, sat waiting there. 



94 



He ate, and talked, and drank, and swore, 
Cursed the north wind, and the northern foe; 
Boasted his courage o'er and o'er; 
And when, at last, I rose to go, 
"Hold !" he exclaimed, "do you forget, 
That, as a slave you're mine alone !" 
He grasped my arm — our glances met, 
A strange light o'er his features shone ; 
The fires of lust flashed from his eyes, 
And hissing, faltered from his tongue — 
One moment tranced in mute surprise. 
Then fiercely to the door I sprung. 
Vainly I struggled to be free, 
And wept, and prayed, in my despair, 
Until wild frenzy wrung from me. 
Shrieks, that waked echoes in the air. 

Frank had returned, and heard my shriek— 
His sword flashed as he passed the door — 
High, angry words I heard them speak — 
A clang of swords — the fight was o'er. 
Marks fell, — a shudder shook his frame, 
He tried to raise his dying head, 
Then breathed some incoherent name. 
And his dark soul in silence fled. 
"There Mary," Cleveland said, " 'tis done!" 
And wiped the dark stain from his blade, 
"With blood your freedom has been won, 
Marks has at last your ransom paid. 
But haste! we must not linger here. 
Tonight we cross the lines and fly ; 
Our northern foemen's watch is near, 
And I must leave this camp or die." 



95 



I donned the Captain's cap and cloak, 
Looked upon Marks my last farewell, 
Put out the lights, and neither spoke, 
As slow we wandered from the dell. 

A few faint flickering watch fires blazed, 
And sparkled in the storm's wild sweep; 
But in the glen no voice was raised, 
The martial host was wrapped in sleep. 
Frank's arm was firmly locked with mine, 
And thus he drew me 'gainst the blast ; 
When hailed he gave the countersign. 
And, safely, by the guards we passed. 
In haste we climbed each rocky hill. 
Hurried through forest, field and glen ; 
And reckless of the winter's chill. 
Sought eagerly those northern men. 
O, how my heart danced with delight ! 
When from a rocky summit bare, 
A deep voice came from out the night. 
And firmly challenged, "Who comes there ?" 
"A lady seeks protection here, 
Led hither by a rebel guide. 
Who trusts your mercy, without fear; 
Please pass us quickly !" Prank replied. 

Soon, with an escort, we passed on, 
And after midnight reached the camp; 
The fierceness of the storm had gone. 
But clouds hung round us chill and damp. 
A crowd sat by a flickering fire ; 
Some smoked, some dozed with nodding head; 
And gazing at my strange attire, 
"Is she a captain ?" some one said. 



96 



They smiled, but 'twas a kindly smile, 

While, with politeness, one arose 

And said, "My friend, your night of toil, 

Surely invites you to repose ; 

Here, in this vacant tent, you'll find 

A cot and blankets, — ^take your rest — 

A soldier's fare — but bear in mind, 

We seldom have a lady guest." 



CHAPTEK X. 

Weary, at once I sought the tent, 
And casting cap and cloak aside, 
Retired, — but that night's strange event, 
Tor hours my needed sleep denied. 
My agitated mind renewed 
The fierce death-struggle I had seen; 
And Cleveland's generous act reviewed, 
Still wondering what his life could mean. 
Never more generous, feeling heart, 
E'er trembled in a human breast; 
A courage that would not depart. 
Nor shrink, howe'er severe the test. 
And yet, the cause he served, was one 
He could not reconcile with right; 
And all his deeds of daring done. 
Lay on his conscience as a blight. 
In sympathy all self was lost, 
His was no calculating soul. 
Coldly to reckon friendship's cost, 
When cruel actions held control. 

I thought how great the sacrifice, 
Which he had made to rescue me; 
An exile from his friends he flies. 
Nor yet, among his foes is free. 
But generously the price he paid. 
Nor faltered once, nor breathed a sigh — 
Enough — ^humanity to aid — 
'Twere cause enough, though he should die. 
7 



98 



Then to liis home my thoughts ran back, 
And the bright days long lost in gloom, 
When, through the forest's winding track, 
We searched the crocus early bloom. 

Down through the intervening years, 
My busy dreams kept on their way, 
Ending at last in blood and tears — 
And battle's terrible array. 
I heard the rattling volleys poured, 
The dying soldier's answering shriek. 
And as the tumult round me roared 
Heard e'en the fierce commands they speak ! 
Sprang to my feet — the hissing shot 
Came pattering round and through the tent. 
The dead lay thick without, while hot. 
The sulphur smoke o'er all was blent. 
I scarce can tell what urged my flight, 
For battle raged on all sides round ; 
Whate'er it was directed right, 
For soon a sheltering ledge I found. 

Concealed within a niche, I heard 
The rebel foemen's frantic cry; 
It seemed the very hills were stirred, 
With their wild cheers of victory. 
Still crouching closer to the rock, 
I lay concealed for half the day ; 
Though with the dawn the battle's shock. 
In tremulous echoes died away. 
I waited till the hurrying foe, 
Gathered their wounded and their dead, 
And from the battle field moved slow, 
Leaving their path blood stained and red. 



99 



Chilled and benumbed I sought a fire, 
Where round the camp on every side, 
Partially stript of their attire, 
The Union men lay where they died. 
Vet'rans, whose scanty locks were gray, 
Scowled as if gazing on the foe ; 
And youth with placid features lay, 
Their bright curls mingling with the snow. 
And here and there a gaping wound, 
Showed where the life's warm current fled. 
Spreading its brilliant crimson round 
Upon the snow, where lay the dead. 

A constant torturing thought arose, 
Frank, my deliverer, — where was he ? 
Captured by those stern southern foes. 
Or here, alas, in death must be. 
I searched all o'er the battle ground. 
And gazed in every ghastly face; 
Searched vainly, Frank was nowhere found, 
Then, slow, I sought the camping place. 
The deep, strange silence settled thera, 
The painful stillness, more than still; 
And death's dread gaze met everywhere, 
Gave to my heart a haunting chill. 
Was this the freedom I had sought? 
Alas, what profit could it yield ! 
Here, in this wild and gloomy spot. 
Alone upon the battlefield ! 

Forests and rocky hills were reared. 
In gloomy grandeur far and wide ; 
But not a human home appeared, 
To cheer the bleak, wild mountain side. 

L.cfC. 



100 

Determined not to spend tlie night, 
There, with the wolves, among the slain ; 
I started for a rocky hight. 
Hoping some home-like view to gain. 
There on the mountain side you lay, 
As dead, unknown, I passed you by ; 
A letter fluttered in my way. 
And Will's name flashed upon my eye. 
Turning I gazed upon your face, — 
Your closed eyes did not look like death — 
And stooping down my hand to place 
Upon your heart, I felt your breath. 
Your heart throbbed strong in measured beat. 
Which made me hope you might revive, 
That care and nourishment and heat. 
Might save you to your friends alive. 

Casting an anxious look around. 
This cabin's roof was just in sight; 
And hastening here, sadly I found 
Its occupants had fled in fright. 
I could not tell how long before. 
But mildew round the hearth had spread ; 
The snow had drifted through the door, 
And down the openings overhead. 
The clock stood silent 'gainst the wall. 
On a long shelf, with clothing filled, 
A meal sack tottered to its fall, 
Mouse-eaten, part its contents spilled. 
While pending from the beams o'erhead. 
Hung bacon, smeared with smoky stain ; 
And all attested those who fled 
Intended to return again. 



101 

Scraping away the drifted snow 
!From floor and fireplace, chill and damp; 
Next for a brand of fire I go 
To search the embers at the camp. 
There, in a broken chest, I found 
The medicines and things required, 
To bathe, and soothe, and dress your wound, 
And these again fresh hopes inspired. 
Here, too, were groceries, and bread — 
It seemed to me there was no lack — 
With small supply of each I sped, 
Bearing also a firebrand back. 
Soon from the reeking hearth arose, 
A flame which purified the air ; 
Dried up the moisture of the snows, 
And spread a warm, bright, radiance there. 

Now I had left you on the ground. 
Body composed, grass 'neath your head. 
Had wrapped you with my cloak around, 
But feared that I might find you dead. 
And if still living, how could I 
Convey you o'er the craggy hill ? 
But while I pondered help was nigh. 
My heart with gratitude to fill. 
Zeb saw the smoke, and cautious came ; 
(Marks' servant, I had known him long, 
Faithful to watch or work the same. 
And also like a giant strong). 
So in his arms he brought you here, 
"Wrapped you with heated linsy round, 
And in the deepening twilight drear, 
With care we bathed and dressed your wound. 



102 

But scarce a hope dared entertain, 
That life would linger out till morn, 
Or reason ever could regain 
The throne from whence it had been torn. 

There, through the anxious night, the fire 
Threw ghostly shadows 'gainst the wall, 
The pine tree's dirge grew clearer, higher, 
And answered to the streamlet's call. 
While round the camp and o'er the hight 
The wolves prolonged their dismal strain, 
And fiercely, through that awful night, 
Held hideous riot o'er the slain. 
Placing a prop against the door, 
We sat our silent watch to keep, 
But slumber softly stealing o'er 
My wearied frame, I sunk to sleep. 
Nor waked till, reddening in the sky. 
The morn outlined the distant hill ; 
And, save the pine boughs' solemn sigh, 
All the wide woods around was still. 

Your eyes blazed forth a vacant stare. 
Your pulse throbbed in a hurried flow, 
A fever's fire was coursing there. 
And giving to your cheeks its glow. 
I plied what remedies I could. 
But still the fever burned your brain. 
And fired your mind with frenzy's mood. 
Then sunk in death-like sleep again. 
While thus you slept, we went once more. 
Back to the camp for new supplies ; 
But, sight so horrid, ne'er before 
Was spread to greet my wondering eyes. 



103 

'Twas not the hero's lifeless form 
Reposing in its last long sleep, 
Just where he braved the battle's storm, 
And perished in its leaden sweep. 
No, 'twas a darker, sadder sight, 
More sickening, and of deeper cast. 
Strewn, undistinguished, o'er the hight, 
The remnant of the wolves' repast. 
And vultures, poised on bloody wing. 
Croaked dismal notes among the trees ; 
The air seemed dank and withering, 
Death's chill had tinged the very breeze. 

I visited the camp no more, 
But tried to banish from my mind, 
A scene I could not ponder o'er. 
Without a haunting pang behind. 
For days, hope, mingled with despair, 
Kept constant conflict in my heart; 
Your eyes still kept their vacant stare. 
And life still struggled to depart. 
But Zeb was faithful day and night. 
Like as a mother lifts her child. 
So, gently, in his arms of might, 
He quieted your ravings wild. 
And then his faith, so Christlike, just — 
His spirit gentle, artless, pure — 
In his great strength I seemed to trust, 
And in his presence felt secure. 

A week thus slowly wore away, 
And fainter grew your labored breath ; 
Till, as the fever's fires decay, 
I saw the ghastly gaze of death. 



104 

My tonics seemed of no avail, 
Death grim, relentless, to defy; 
And when it seemed he would prevail, 
I could not calmly see you die. 
My last fond hope, — a prayer to heaven, 
Wrung from my heart's deep agony, 
That life might yet to you be given — 
Life ! only life ! I asked for thee. 

But then, the stillness of the room 
Grew so impressive, so like death. 
So filled my soul with grief and gloom, 
I scarce dared listen for your breath ; 
But startled when you moved your hand, 
Nervous, as though the dead awoke — 
Hearing it rustle against the band, 
I looked, and lo, the spell was broke ! 
Your eyes gave back a meaning gaze, 
Hope 'rose responsive to your voice. 
And filled our souls with grateful praise, 
For God had made our hearts rejoice. 

My friend, God's providence alone. 
Arranged the plan by which to save 
Your life, and make His power known, 
E'en at the portals of the grave. 
Backward o'er all the varied scene; 
Where'er hope triumphed o'er despair, 
Where'er one beam of bliss has been. 
It comes from God, an answered prayer. 
But now my simple tale is told. 
Though marked with crime and misery, 
The truth alone has been unrolled, 
As time writes on eternity. 



CHAPTEE XI. 

Than Mary Howard's could there be 
A soul more generous and kind ? 
A deeper love of liberty ? 
A nobler heart? a purer mind? 
I saw her seven years before, 
When from her southern home she came, 
A timid, quiet stranger, more 
In quest of learning than its name. 
But soon my schoolboy days were o'er, 
Life's active duties claimed my care, 
And though I met the class no more. 
Was, strangely, still remembered there ; 
For I was known as Willard's friend, 
Kindly he often spoke of me, 
And thus his generous words did tend, 
To keep my name in memory. 

But she had changed as years swept by. 
And I would scarce have known her now ; 
Though the bright, spirit speaking eye, 
And the same placid, thoughtful brow. 
Beamed in the holy light of truth. 
A light which heaven alone can give. 
And, traced in lines of age, or youth, 
Will never, never cease to live. 
Communion with her God had given, 
Such peace no earthly power could move, 
And as her hopes were placed on heaven. 
There too was centered all her love. 



106 

She tauglit me much I had unlearned ; 
Her conversation warmed my soul, 
Till all my better thoughts returned, 
And holy feelings held control. 

Thus weeks passed by, the rebel band 
No longer in the vale was seen, 
The snow had melted from the sand, 
And the warm slopes were tinged with green. 
Health had returned, and we began 
To talk of quitting our abode. 
But found it difficult to plan 
A journey o'er such dangerous road. 
Circled by rebel hosts around, 
Caused us each plan of flight decline, 
Southward lay dark Confederate ground, 
Northward the guarded rebel line. 
Still, while we kept our mountain home, 
Though circumscribed, we yet were free, 
And hope still whispered, here might come 
The standards of our liberty. 
The southern bands might melt away. 
Before the northern leaden rain ; 
And, ere the spring's bright blooms decay, 
Our armies hold these bights again. 

Soothed by this thought we still remained, 
And Zeb and I through vale and wood. 
With spear and bow and craft obtained 
The wild game for our daily food. 
Sometimes, from out the mountain tide, 
We drew the fish with hook and line; 

And sometimes, at its sedgy side. 
For food, selected bulb and vine. 



107 

These, with supplies of flour and meal, 
And bacon, stored by hands unknown ; 
Met all our need, and made us feel 
God's care and other's gifts to own. 

Thus, pleasantly, while early spring 
Filled all the glades and glens with flowers, 
And bright birds came their songs to sing. 
And spend with us the summer hours ; 
We lived a free, wild, mountain life, 
Amid those solitudes, so deep. 
That echo from the fields of strife 
Broke not the calm of nature's sleep. 
From all the busy world around 
Host fronting host on battle plain, 
Where Freedom's earnest sons were found ; 
Faithful 'mid toil, and blood, and pain; 
From nations which looked on with sneers. 
Or cowardly combined, laid low 
The brave and true, and left in tears 
Our fair young sister Mexico ; 
There came to this wild mountain land. 
Of course, no tidings from abroad ; 
But still, our prayers for Freedom's band, 
In fervency, arose to God. 
And, while we greatly longed to know 
How fared the cause to us so dear. 
Time dragged not heavily nor slow. 
In fact we were not lonesome here. 

Oft'times when darkness filled the vale. 
And twilight faded from the hill, 
And sighs came w^ailing in the gale, 
A solemn sense our minds would fill. 



108 

But scliooltime mem'ries backward cast, 
Afforded many a pleasant theme, 
And, from life's strange and varied past. 
Called many a long forgotten dream. 
Who, in the earnest, ceaseless strife, 
Protracted on through passing years, 
Braving the bitter storms of life, 
Nor paused to dash away his tears, 
Has met a schoolmate and a friend, 
And back to brighter days been led. 
Nor found, from his worn heart, ascend 
A resurrection of the dead ? 

And thus we talked of other years. 
And other friends, and other times. 
Till, lost in early hopes and fears, 
Forgot the war and all its crimes. 
But not in thoughts, nor words alone. 
Nor yet in walks was passed the time ; 
We gathered from the field each bone. 
And placed them where the mingled chime. 
Of sighing pine and murmuring rill. 
Sings endless requiem, soft but deep — 
One grave my fallen comrades fill — 
They stood united — so they sleep. 

Zeb, in his quaint plantation phrase. 
Told of the times "Befo de wah, 
Away back in dem good ol days. 
When Roda, like de vespa stah, 
Shined in de cabin near de gate, — 
She tend de house f o Missus Marks, 
An' I druv coach 'bout de estate 
Us bof light hearted as de larks- 



109 

Por f ac, our missus more 'an good ; 

She tell us darkies how to lib, 

Not low down mean, but like we should, 

Keepin de 'mandments Jesus gib. 

Missus tell Koda how dat she 

Got a good, 'ligious, Bible name ; 

An mine wa'nt Zeb, but Zebedee, 

Outen de Bible, bof de same. 

An' when our chilluns, twins, was bon, 

Of cose da named dem atter me ; 

An' called one Jeems, de udder John, 

Kase da was sons ob Zebedee. 

O bress de Laud, dem days was bright ! 
We lub dem boys, and Roda she 
Help me be good, an' do jes right — 
Our 'fection same like folks dats free. 
An' ebry day, at mornin' light, 
A kneelen whar de chilluns sleep ; 
We ax de Laud to start us right. 
All day de narrer way to keep. 
We do our work de very best, 
Kase we was worken f o' de Laud, 
An' spected, by an' by, we'ed rest 
Togeder in de great rewa'd. 
I druv de boss when Massa go, 
Jes as he said, an' brung him back ; 
Sometimes so drunk he didn't know 
Hisself from Zeb, or de boss, for f ac. 
An' de ol' plantation all run down. 
An' Missus pray, an' sometimes cry — 
De bans all skeery when da foun' 
De traders comin' roun' to buy. 



110 

One mornin' Massa say to me, 
I wants you go to town an' haul 
De wood das chopped fo' Maja Lee, — 
Jes stay dar till ye tote it all. 
So I kiss Roda, Jeems an' John, 
An', with the team, away I went ; 
An' all de time when I was gone, 
Till I done jolted all dat stent ; 
I thought of Roda an' de boys. 
An' how I'd like to brung um home, 
May be some pretty painted toys. 
An' some'in nice fo' Roda's room. 
So when at night, de team put by, 
I digged a gemman's garden potch, 
Brung his cow from de pasta nigh. 
Done all de jobs 'at I could kotch. 
Da paid me well, dem town folks did— 
I gits Roda a rocken cheer, 
De boys a wagon painted red, 
Loadened 'ith sweets da lub so dear ; 
An' clothes, an' things to eat an' w'ar. 
So, when I started back, you see, 
I thought, 'ith our dear chilluns dar. 
None blessed like Roda, dem, an' me. 

I spec dem chilluns on de lawn. 
Rut look an' listen all in vain. 
Fac — da an' Roda sold — done gone ! 
I nebber seed dem once again ! 
I fro dem tings down on de flo' — 
I couldn't speak — ^not even cry — 
'Feared like I couldn't live no mo* — 
Jes prayed de Laud to let me die. 



Ill 

Den Missus cry, an' try to 'splain, 
Bout debts, an' law, an' 'fliction's rod; 
An hope I'd meet dem all again, 
Leastwise widin de courts ob God. 

Dis life aint nuffin mo' to me, 
'Cept I can find whar Roda is, 
An' know dat Jeems, an' John am free, 
An' God can somehow make me His. 
I haint no udder massa now — 
De day ob jubilee comes nigh, 
To my Great Massa's will I bow, 
For Him to serve, to fight, to die. 
I hear ol' Massa Marks once say, 
De North was 'listin slaves to fight ; 
An' I'ze been prayin' ebery day, 
To' dat same chance to come in sight." 
And, when the "chance" at last came 'round, 
Zeb proudly donned the Union blue, 
And always at his post was found. 
In hardship and in peril true. 
Till Forrest on Fort Pillow's hight. 
Did break his truce, his honor stain ; 
There Zeb, still faithful to the right. 
Was with the Union prisoners slain. 



CHAPTER XII. 

One monring -when the sun rose clear, 
And flung the shadows down the vale, 
The boom of cannon we could hear, 
Tn deep pulsations on the gale. 
All day the sullen roar was heard, 
In throbs from out the northern sky, 
And yet no forest leaf was stirred, 
Nor smoke-weaths caught the anxious eye. 
But when the level sun had spread 
The mountain tops with burnished gold, 
Our glen was startled by the tread 
Of iron hoofs, and we beheld, 
Slow winding downward, to the spring 
That rippled by our cabin door, 
A rebel band whose sabres ring 
And gleamed the carbines which they bore. 

Full in their view, we dared not fly, 
But hoped that, unsuspected here. 
They soon would pass us harmless by — 
There seemed no real cause for fear. 
But when dismounted at the rill ; 
Their guns and saddles laid aside, 
Mary turned pale, her heart grew stiU, 
As she the leader's face espied. 
"I know the man, 'tis Small, Jim Small, 
Ee was Marks' overseer," she said, 
"Rather than in his hands to fall, 
I would be numbered with the dead." 



113 

But soon tlie band was at the door, 
Nor paused they long, nor humbly pled, 
But whatsoe'er might be our store. 
Demanded that they must be fed. 
Complying with apparent cheer, 
Meanwhile in talk engaging Small, 
Was told the rebel line was near. 
Broken and tottering to its fall. 
But then 'twas early in the day 
When they had left the field of strife ; 
Where turning cowardly away, 
Each sought to save his precious life. 

Small still talked on, and yet, I saw 
With fear, his pause and scowl askance; 
And hoped that Mary might withdraw, 
And hide from his inquiring glance. 
Vain hope ! for, when with mild request, 
I said their speech did not appear, 
Though uttered laughingly in jest, 
Just suited to a lady's ear. 
Small bent on me a scowl of scorn. 
And said, "Young man your speech is fine, 
But you will find to-morrow mom, 
That this here pretty girl is mine. 
I haint a grain 'o doubt but you 
Was there the night that Marks was killed, 
I always thought there must be two. 
Or Markses blood had not been spilled. 
They got young Cleveland that same night, 
They ought to killed him on the spot. 
But then, they tried him, fair and right. 
And marched him out, and had him shot. 



114 

I thought I'd come and look for her, 
And see how Markses matters stood, — 
Now that she's found, I tell you sir, 
This time she's going back for good. 
And where's Marks' body servant, Zeb ? 
Quite likely you have got him, too, 
But mind you, Yank, you've found a reb, 
Who'll have a settlement with you." 

Tears rose at once to Mary's eyes, 
When the sad fate of Frank was told : 
Now, at my side, forced back her sighs, 
And stood, pale, motionless, and cold. 
I looked for some neglected sword. 
Some weapon which my hand might grasp, 
But looked in vain, among the horde, 
Each sword was resting in its clasp ; 
And every eye was bent on me. 
The object of their sneers and hate, 
I seemed the scoffed of destiny. 
The mocked of hell, the scorned of fate. 

Alas, thought I, what chance ? what hope ? 
I'll give my life, can do no more — 
Unarmed with twenty swords to cope. 
Glancing the situation o'er. 
Made firm resolve that Small must die ; 
And then, perhaps, more human heart. 
Moved, possibly, by tear or sigh. 
Would let her through the lines depart. 
And yet, how could I dare to die. 
And leave that angel in their power ? 
No, Death himself I would defy ! 
And laugh at Satan's darkest lower ! 



115 

While jet they deemed me tamed witli fear, 
And Small aimed at us ribald jest ; 
Which strangely tingled in my ear, 
And boiled the blood within my breast ; 
Mary toward the door I swung, 
And quick the nearest sword obtain — 
That instant twenty scabbards rung. 
That instant, too, Jim Small was slain. 
Never, perhaps, did mortal feel. 
On one frail arm such trust repose. 
Despair made all my sinews steel. 
And Heaven directed all my blows. 

Firm to the sabre's hilt I clung. 
Clenched were my teeth, and full my breath, 
And where that hissing blade was swung, 
Followed the gurgling shriek of death. 
The cravens, cowering from my blade, 
Hushed to the cabin's further side; 
And, as their headlong flight was stayed, 
With trembling hands their pistols tried. 
One bound and I had passed the door ; 
And, while the logs their shots defy, 
I shouted, "Cross this threshhold o'er ! 
But mark, who crosses it shall die." 

Now Zeb had kept himself from view. 
Yet hopeful, bravely lingered nigh, 
When Mary from the door withdrew. 
Joined her to serve, defend or die. 
The horses, all unwatched were left, 
Tethered to graze beside the spring. 
And Zeb, with knife in hand, now cleft 
Each thong, and bridled three, to bring 



116 

[Back to assist us in our flight ; 
The rest he frightened down the vale. 
Where, hidden by the shades of night, 
He hoped the rebel search might fail. 

And now upon the roof o'erhead, 
I heard the hurried tramp of feet, 
And swiftly from the doorway sped, 
Hoping to make a safe retreat. 
Quickly upon the steeds we sprang, 
And bounded for the northern steep — 
Loudly the iron footsteps clang, 
While hissing shots around us sweep. 
On through the darkest shades of night. 
Swift 'neath the arching trees we passed, 
Down from the mountain's rugged hight. 
And gained the open road at last. 
With headlong gallop swept we on. 
Our speed seemed fleeter than the wind. 
Till every lingering fear was gone, 
Of those foiled foes we left behind. 

The sword still rested in my hand, 
I would not fling that blade away, 
'Twas tried, and yet some straggling band. 
Might, by its strength, be held at bay. 
During our flight we seldom spoke, 
Eut, when assuming easier pace. 
Our hopeful conversation woke 
A passtime for out anxious race. 
"Thank God," I said, "we all survive, 
I've not received the slightest touch, 
And now, to pass those lines alive, 
Is, surely, hoping not too nmch." 



IIY 

"Perhaps a few hours more will tell 
What fate awaits us," she replied, 
"But, when we crossed that rocky dell, 
I felt a bullet touch my side ; 
It seemed the merest touch, but still, 
It sometimes gives a thrill of pain. 
And even now a faintlike chill 
Steals softly to my very brain. 
No doubt, "continued she, "it springs 
Less from the wound than from my fright, . 
The lassitude reaction brings. 
Scarce leaves me strength enough for flight." 

Still we kept on our weary way, 
Pausing, at times by mountain rills ; 
Until the beams of coming day 
Glanced upward from the eastern hills. 
Then, turning on a path which wound, 
Upward, along the mountain hight. 
We rested on the highest ground, 
And waited for the morning light. 



CHAPTEK XIII. 

The mountain air aroimd us crept, 
Balmy and cool, the breath of spring, 
And far o'er vales where night still slept, 
And shadows hung on drowsy wing, 
In broken lines the camp-fires shone 
Like stars reflected from the sky ; 
And silence over all was thrown, 
Save the tall pine's soft whispered sigh. 
But when the day the outlines trace. 
Of crag, and steep, and stream, and vale, 
I looked on Mary Howard's face. 
And saw 'twas haggard, cold and pale. 
Still, of her wound she felt no fear, 
Said it would very soon be well. 
And thought the chill, while resting here. 
Perhaps had made it slightly swell. 
No doubt 'twould give her some slight pain, 
But she could bear it all, and more, 
*'For see," she said, "across the plain. 
Our flag floats proudly as of yore." 
Par down beside a silver stream, 
We saw our country's standards shine. 
And rows of glistening bayonets gleam, 
As they came grandly into line. 

Mounting the jaded steeds once more. 
Slow from the mountain hight we ride; 
Were passed the guarded line, and o'er 
The river's silver current glide. 



119 

The little hamlet, on its bank, 
Showed the sad signs of war's decay; 
The slopes around were brown and blank, 
Fences and trees were swept awav. 
Here yestermorn our country's foes, 
With flaunting banners thronged the street, 
Here the blue wreaths of battle rose. 
And stubborn traitors haste retreat; 
Here, too, the patriot legions pressed. 
While slavery's vengeful minions fly 
Back to the mountains of the west. 
Or in the leaden hailstorm die. 

Here, on the river's sloping side, 
A neat secluded mansion rose. 
And here we asked, nor were denied, 
Needed refreshment and repose. 
A pale, sad woman, boAved, in tears; 
Whose sons the war had swept away. 
Nor spared her husband, though the years 
Had seen his manhood's strength decay. 
And her two daughters — widows all, — 
Whose husbands died for home and right, 
Received us kindly in the hall, 
And spoke and smiled a welcome bright. 

'Tis ever thus : in sorrow's vale. 
With hearts which feel affliction's wound, 
Where earthly hopes no more prevail, 
The sweetest sympathies are found. 
But who, alas, can record make 
Of those true hearts on border line ; 
Who stood alone, yet would not break 
The tie which all these States entwine. 



120 

Who, in the very midst of foes, 
Stood firm against corruption's flood, 
Braved first Secession's vengeful blows. 
And freely gave their heart's best blood. 

Their names, who held her famous pass, 
Sparta remembered long with pride ; 
But who can number these, alas ! 
Unnoticed even where they died ! 
Ah, who can tell the sighs and tears. 
Of families o'er ruined home. 
Or know their soul consuming fears, 
Wliile starved and shelterless they roam. 
Show where they crouched in grove or field, 
Weeping till tears no longer start, 
And struggling nature needs must yield. 
When Death in mercy hushed each heart. 
The pitying grass may hide each bone. 
Which molders on their native sod. 
But every pure bright name is known, 
And written in the book of God. 

Now safe in Mrs. Butler's home. 
None the less dear though newly found, 
Mary reposed, sweet rest had come ; 
Here gentle hands would dress her wound, 
And tender hearts in sympathy. 
Yield converse pleasant and refined, 
And hope and love and charity, 
Bring calmness to her troubled mind. 
But when a surgeon probed her wound, 
With all the tender touch of art, 
A grimed, corroding ball was found, 
Deeply imbedded near her heart. 



121 

"I may not call it mortal now," 
The surgeon said, "she still may live, 
But her quick pulse and fevered brow, 
Scarce one relieving hope can give." 
As slow the bright sun sought the west, 
She sunk in calm, refreshing sleep, 
Kind hearted strangers soothe her rest, 
And o'er her tender watchings keep. 

The surgeon gave me Will's address 
Advanced, he served in Tennessee — 
And I could not one thought repress. 
With Will reserve must never be. 
Friends we had been, too long, too true, 
For cold reserve to intervene. 
But round our friendship now there grew 
Ties dearer than the past had been. 
And so my hopes and fears I told ; 
My hopes, whence, and to whom they clung ; 
My fears, — too fateful to unfold — 
Weird shadows o'er the future hung. 
Whate'er it was I wrote, it brought 
A calmness to my anxious mind ; 
Removed, perhaps, some cankering thought, 
And left a cheering ray behind. 
O ! when the mind with fears oppressed, 
Sees life in pall-like shadows blend. 
How grateful to the troubled breast, 
The sweet communion of a friend. 

Mary oft'times expressed desire. 
As slow the weary days went by. 
And hope seemed ready to expire. 
That Ella Howard might be nigh. 



122 

"For strangely, from the long ago," 
She said, "A thousand memories start, 
And backward over time's wild flow, 
Bring childhood's visions to my heart. 
Alas, my Ella, where is she ? 
My dear lost sister, could she know 
What kind friends God has given me, 
How faded all my fears of woe, 
How slavery's awful bonds were broke. 
And freedom, friendship, joy, and love. 
Have all the hopes of life awoke, 
.While angels beckon me above." 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Days passed : the richest bloom of spring 
Lay bright on riverside and hill, 
The wild birds warbled on the wing, 
Cheered by the summer's opening thrill. 
And Mary watched the days go by, 
As still she felt her strength decline, 
Gazed on the hills with languid eye, 
But breathed no murmur of repine. 
Though life, with youth and hope, was sweet, 
When death's dark shadows intervene, 
Her spirit sought that safe retreat. 
Where her pure love had ever been : 
How bright soe'er earth's hopes might be. 
What promise by those hopes be given, 
Taith could a dearer promise see, 
A holier hope — a home in heaven. 

Once when the calm, bright day was gone, 
And the warm breeze scarce waked a sigh. 
And night crept softly, calmly on, 
Till stars peered from the dark blue sky ; 
I swung the window shades aside, 
For Mary loved so grand a scene ; 
In silence long she gazed, and sighed, 
'^Alas, what might this world have been ! 
How pure, how very pure it seems ; 
Ambrosia lingers in the air. 
And yonder every taper beams. 
As guardian angels waited there. 



124 

All day I heard the merry rills, 

And the deep river rushing free ; 

And O ! how bright the woods and hills, 

All nature laughed for very glee. 

O ! the rich gifts, the beauty, worth — 

Abundant means of happiness. 

Scattered profusely o'er the earth, 

To elevate, refine, and bless. 

But men have cast them all aside; 

Scorned the best gifts that God has given. 

Ambition, and a selfish pride. 

Make human souls forget their heaven. 

Alas ! that those true hearts, who claim. 
With high resolve, the freeman's right; 
Must kindle round them battle's flame. 
And stand forever in the fight. 
Could all oppression's bonds be broke, 
Would each revere life's sacred trust, 
And passion nevermore provoke, 
And swords be flung aside to rust ; 
This world, with all its varied store. 
Would be so pleasant, pure, and good, 
With hate and crime knovvn never more, 
Nor right, nor justice be withstood ; 
Then I could love its calm delight. 
Might shrink perhaps, when death came near. 
But while our nature bears its blight. 
Life more, far more than death, I fear. 

Yet think not that I shrink from life; 
No, I would live, and work, and pray; 
I too, would join the holy strife, 
Thus would I wear my life away. 



125 

Ah, yes, your toilsome way I'd cheer, 
And, while you looked for strength above, 
Your heart would know there lingered near, 
One who would never cease to love. 
You never breathed that sacred word, 
But language never could unfold 
Thoughts, which the heart has deeper stirred, 
Than those your speaking eyes have told. 
And thus it is, for love and you, 
I cling to life — I would not die. 
Till age its twilight round us drew, 
And taught our hearts to beat less high. 
Alas ! I feel it may not be ; 
But duty still will urge you on — 
Courage, brave heart ! you'll think of me. 
But do not mourn when I am gone. 
Kemember, I was born a slave — 
That blight rests darkly on my name; 
But o'er the calm and silent grave. 
The bond and free are all the same." 

At last she sunk to calm repose, 
And I my silent vigil kept ; 
With heart crushed 'neath its bitter woes. 
The hot tears from my eyelids crept. 
Light footsteps sounded in the hall — 
Two dark forms slowly passed the door — 
The first paused where the dim rays fall 
Upon- the martial cloak he wore. 
The lady at his side passed by. 
And gazed on Mary Howard's face ; 
Tears from her eyes fell silently, 
As still she gazed, and kept her place. 



126 

There, surely, Willard Preston stood 
Beneath the taper's trembling beam ; 
But I, in half bewildered mood, 
Feared to dispel so fond a dream — 
He grasped my hand, and spoke my name, 
The mystery had passed away — 
Here was my friend, the very same, 
Whom I had loved in youth's calm day. 
Here, too, was Ella, come to cheer, 
With all a sister's love and care. 
Her dear, dear friend, who slumbered here, 
And lift the weight of my despair. 
New hopes within my sad heart sprung, 
And life caught light and joy anew, 
The shadows which around me hung. 
Dissolved as sunshine sweeps the dew. 

Mary slept sweetly through the night, 
And waked to unexpected bliss — 
Waked to enjoy a dear delight, 
Her highest earthly happiness. 
Desire for life revived again. 
Bright hopes to which her heart now clung. 
And e'en the dull, consuming pain, 
No more a sigh from suffering wrung. 

There is a bliss in friendship found. 
To life what dearer joys are given ? 
Where'er its radiance spreads around. 
Earth brightens in the light of heaven. 
A free, full interchange of thought, 
An unreserved confiding speech, 
And heart warm sympathies which brought 
A paradise within our reach. 



127 

And as the hopeful days passed by, 

We heard the strange, romantic tale ; 

How Cleveland's generous sympathy 

Freed Mr. Howard from the jail. 

And how, on outward pilgrimage, 

To find some place from conflict free, 

Hoping to shun the war's wild rage 

They pased through Knoxville, Tennessee. 

Here, while their journey was delayed, 
Ella, by chance, with Willard met ; 
And, while through Union lines conveyed, 
They found no star of love had set. 
While Willard on the battle plain 
Led charging squadrons to the shock; 
Ella, unmoved by toil or pain. 
Was changeless as the mountain rock. 
In love, in patriotic zeal, 
In all that virtue orders done, 
In every cause of human weal, 
Ella's and Willard's hearts were one. 

And William Howard, tried and true, 
Found honor, courage, candor, thought, 
In all that Will resolved to do. 
In every aim pursued or sought ; 
And looked on him with noble pride, 
Not merely for his laurels won, 
Received him at his daughter's side 
And doted on him as a son ; 
But 'twas his high religious truth. 
His stainless purity of mind. 
Unchanged — the same from early youth — 
Which Will with manhood's powers combined. 



128 

And thus, these hearts in love so true, 
Designed of heaven as one for life, 
Could never more a doubt renew — 
Ella was now Will Preston's wife. 

And Mr. Howard quite forgot 
His broken health and weight of years ; 
But to his country's cause still brought 
His earnest soul, — reckless of fears — 
Kesolved to share his country's fate, 
To make her prosperous, great, and free, 
Although his home, made desolate, 
In peace he never more might see. 
Firm in the serried ranks he stood. 
The Nestor of a noble band. 
That glorious southern brotherhood, 
Keady to die for native land. 

They told us, too, how they prepare 
A tour to Willard's distant home; 
And Ella and her mother there. 
Would live till peace let Willard come. 
But then, my long, sad letter came — 
The daughter, sister, friend was found, 
Mary — that dear, remembered name — 
Had been from her dark doom unbound. 
Affection could not then believe, 
That death would seize on one so dear, — 
In hope, and yet disposed to grieve, 
Ella and Willard hastened here. 
Resolved that Mary hence should find. 
In Ella's home, a safe retreat, 
As sisters tested, loving, kind. 
Companionship were doubly sweet. 



129 

Now hope held triumpli for awhile, 
And Mary seemed recovering fast ; 
The eloquence of youth, meanwhile. 
Plead earnestly that life might last. 
The surgeon, too, assurance gave, 
"Surely," he said, "she's gaining strength; 
A soul so trustful, strong and brave, 
Must bring her back to health at length." 
Alas ! 'twas but the kindling fire 
Of fever coursing round her heart, 
As meteors brighten to expire. 
And deepen night when they depart 

One hopeful week to us was given, 
How quick those happy days passed by ! 
When all our hopes and hearts were riven. 
And we were told that she must die. 
The poison of that rebel shot, 
Corrosive, round her heart had crept ; 
Till, painless, it had been forgot. 
And there the deadly venom slept. 
Vain were the surgeon's efforts now. 
Vain all our cares, our love, our tears ; 
But e'en when death had touched her brow, 
Her hopeful spirit felt no fears. 
Brightly, in faith's unclouded beam, 
The perfect light of heaven shone ; 
No mystery, or doubt, or dream, 
Nor shadow o'er her soul was thro^vn. 

"With you," she said, "I thought to rest, 
To peaceful lands with you to roam ; 
But then, our Father knoweth best, 
And I am willing to go home. 



130 

Life's weary dim and vacant dreams, 
No more perplex or flush my brow ; 
I'll watch no more hope's trembling gleams, 
Mine is the glorious real now. 
My Father's holy home on high, 
My soul will sigh no more to see, 
My being's brightest joys are nigh — 
Repress those tears, — rejoice with me ! 
No tears are there, no sighs, no pain — 
There we can meet to part no more. 
There withering death comes not again, 
And slavery's bitterness is o'er." 

She bent on us a tender glance. 
Then closed her eyes as though to sleep- 
Softly, as evening's shades advance. 
Death's slumber settled, cold and deep. 
Placid and soft as infant's sleep ; 
Without one line of grief, or care — 
A holy smile her features keep — 
Death gazed and gladly left it there. 

Her grave is on the river side, 
Beneath a low and whispering pine. 
Her requiem murmured by the tide, 
Her monument the clasping vine. 
'Twas there we knelt and breathed a prayer, 
And there a last embrace we gave. 
Our sad farewells were spoken there, 
Beside our Schoolmate's lonely grave. 



TiOt i90i 



'Ifa6 5- SEP 12 1901 



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LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 



016 225896^ 




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